


Spare Parts (Arcana Fandom Drafts, Discord Drafts, and Cutting-Room Floor)

by CallYouByYourName



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Consensual Violence, Edgeplay, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heavy BDSM, Light BDSM, M/M, Master/Pet, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallYouByYourName/pseuds/CallYouByYourName
Summary: Okay, so... I'll make this description better later. Maybe. Probably. This is a holding-area for the many, many drabbles and assorted scraps of stories and scenes I've been lucky enough to share with my friends on Discord, and sometimes other places. They're early drafts of scenes I've published here, alternate paths, scenes I haven't published here yet (possible spoilers??) and stuff like that. Many different pairings, ratings, etc.Really, I didn't think anyone would want to read these, but some of them are alright. It's kind of a mess in here - proceed at own risk.





	1. Lost Epilogue

**A lost Epilogue I found all alone on a mostly deleted page. Trite and cringe? Sure. I like it anyway, and I’m keeping it in case I want it later.**

* * *

_It’s a secret that only a few real sadists know; Love hurts more than anything else._

* * *


	2. An Alternate (original??) ending to Things Go Wrong, Sublime Verse

**Original Working Title: Back Home/All Is Forgiven/Wan Sum Fuk**

(all typos left intact, for now)

* * *

Back home in Lucio’s quarters, Julian is letting himself be undressed. 

“Count Lucio? ...I’m sorry.” 

Lucio looks up, puzzled, as if he’d forgotten Julian could speak. “No,” he says, after a moment, “You’re not to blame for any of that. He won’t trouble you again.” 

Julian shakes his head. “No-- I’m sorry for, you know. Before. For last night,” he clarifies. “I don’t know what got into me.” Lucio finishes disrobing him, then takes off his own clothes, and slides between the cool sheets.

“Come here to me,” he says, gently. 

Julian climbs into bed gratefully, and Lucio draws him into his embrace, which feels like heaven. He feels his silence like a weight in the air itself. Finally, he says, “That wasn’t your fault. The fault was entirely mine.”

Julian frowns. Without artifice, he says, “No, but it wasn't. I’m the one who acted like a maniac, you didn’t do anything. My lord.” 

Lucio looks at him with soft eyes. “I did, though.” He strokes Julian’s’ face with the tip of one claw. “You are so sweetly submissive that I allowed myself to forget you are not yet tamed. I frightened you badly, without any preparation. You had every right to react as you did.” 

Julian’s head swims - understandable for someone whose world is being turned upside down… or righted. “But… then… I’m not punished anymore?” His fingers go automatically to trace the edge of the dress collar he still wears. 

Lucio shakes his head. He seems surprised. “Did today feel like a punishment to you?” 

In his head, Julian goes over the events of the day: the long hours curled up next to Lucio’s chair, his head on his lap, being caressed… the public extravagance of the gala.

“Maybe the groomer’s,” he admits, face crinkling in a grin, dipping his head as he roughs up his own hair with one hand, like a scratching dog. Lucio laughs. 

“That was to a purpose, but I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it. Maybe next time I’ll come along and watch.” 

Julian can’t hold back a whine of dismay. “ _Next_ time, my lord?” This only pulls another, more hearty chuckle from the Count. 

“Certainly. Pets are bathed by the staff, not in my personal baths.” He’s smirking still, and Julian has absolutely no idea if he’s teasing or if he means it. 

“ _Yes,_ my lord Count Lucio,” he sighs, “as long as it pleases you, of course.” 

Lucio slips two fingers under the collar to tug on it, not hard, wiggling him back and forth a little. He’s still smiling. “So you didn’t like the groomer’s. What about the rest of it?”. 

Julian takes a moment to consider, then speaks slowly as he responds feeling it out as he goes. “Well, it _was_ a bit embarrassing, to be seen in a leash and collar everywhere we went, but… it was good, to be near you.” He swallows, glancing away, and then back. “Very good. It was… what I needed,” he confesses, lowering his eyes. 

Lucio curls two fingers under his chin to tilt his gaze back up. “Yes.That’s why you got the collar, Ilya. Not to punish you, but to comfort you. I cannot always stop the world, you know, to tend you all day while we lie in bed...” here smiles, ruefully, “But there’s no reason why I can’t slip a collar around your neck and keep you leashed to my side, should the need arise.” 

Julian blushes again, at that. He knows very well the need that Lucio is thinking of. “My lord, about that, about what I said. I-- I’m so _sorry!_ ” 

Lucio holds up a hand to forestall and further explanation. “I know. I’ve told you, though, that you didn’t do anything wrong, Julian. Do you question my judgement?” 

Julian blanches, uneasy about this change in tone. “Erm, no? That is, no, Count Lucio, certainly not!” 

Lucio nods. “Good.” He releases Julian’s collar (which causes a pang of disappointment Julian doesn’t understand), but runs one manicured fingertip along the top of the links, brushing his skin very lightly as he does. “You are free to weep or cling as much as you wish, Julian. I know your emotional state is… somewhat ungovernable.” He doesn’t hide his amusement at this fact, although his smile is terribly fond. “But if you continue to contradict me on the matter, I may be forced to find something for you to be genuinely sorry about.” 

Julian shivers, and with need as much as fear. He doesn’t want Lucio to actually dream up a punishment he’ll hate, (as he’s more than once proven himself capable) but he craves both touch and attention - and he craves the whip. He can feels the distance which had opened between them now closing, closing… but it’s still there, and still too wide for his comfort. He wants _everything_ , needs it in fact, and needs _now_.

“Yes, Count Lucio. Sor-- er, ahem. I understand, Count Lucio,” he catches himself in time.

Lucio rewards him with a caressing hand at the back of his neck, and Julian sighs.

“Good. Also, I must admit that I’ve enjoyed having you leashed and bound to my side all day, more so than I would have imagined. I think I may enjoy keep you in this state for a few days, maybe even a week. Do you consent?”

“Oh? Yes, Count Lucio, yes please!” His face grows pink as Lucio laughs at his eagerness. “But,” he wonders, “What, ah, about my work, though?”

“You may call me Lucio.”

“Thank you, Lucio.” 

Lucio strokes his cheek. “You will be taking a short break. Your work will wait,” he commands. “I know you’ll fret over it, but my desires supersede yours in this. You’ll survive seven days without working yourself half to death, I think. And I’ll send word to Valdemar to let them know.”

“Thank you, Lucio.” 

“Of course, my dear. And Julian?” he asks, pulling away, changing the subject abruptly, “If I had thought that you really wanted to go, when you first asked, you’d be gone by now. Do you? Want to leave?” 

Julian shakes his head, quickly. “No! Please… I never wanted to go. I don’t! I thought… I thought you might be… getting tired of me.” His voice drops on the last, and he looks down again. 

Lucio sighs, Julian can hear the exasperation in his exhale… and with sudden movements he pushes him from his lap, and onto his back. Julian feels his heart racing with sudden fear… then excitement, as Lucio throws a leg over his hip and rolls on top of him. 

Gazing up at him, he parts his lips to take quick, shuddering breaths through his mouth, his heartbeat so fast that he’s sure Lucio can see it, pulsing in his throat. Desire surges in him, and raw need, bringing sudden tears to the corners of his eyes and making him uncomfortably aware of how sensitive his body is to every point of contact with Lucio’s. He breathes, “My lord?”

Lucio leans down to cage him with his arms, resting his elbows on either side of Julian’s face. His expression is one of seriousess. Quietly he says, “Julian. You always listen better when I’m on top of you, and right now I want you to listen to me very carefully. Try to understand what I’m about to say. Can you do that for me, love?”

Julian nods, pressing his lips together to keep them from betraying him. Lucio rewards him with a quick kiss between his eyes. “Good. Look at me, while I say this, Julian - no disappearing, no retreat. Yes?“ He pinches Julian’s chin between his thumb and index finger, gentle but firm, holding him in place. 

Julian swallows hard, uneasy. “Yes, Lucio. ...I understand.”

“Good boy.” Looking into his frightened eyes, Lucio says in a low, even voice: “I am _never_ going to throw you away. I give you my word as the Count of Vesuvia, as the one-time Prince of my people in the South, and as a man.” 

He waits to let the words sink in, heavy as they are, studying Julian’s eyes with an intensity that makes him feel exposed, naked-beyond-naked, as if he can see behind the backs of his eyes, read his unadorned thoughts. Julian doesn’t answer, doesn’t speak, simply because he can’t. 

Lucio goes on: “You are free to leave at any time, but I will never, ever discard you. You’re far too precious to be cast aside like common trash - no matter what mistakes you make, or how many.” Despite his orders, Julian has to close his eyes against the welling tears and rising disbelief. Oh, it _hurts!_. 

“Julian, _no_ ,” Lucio corrects him at once. 

“ _Please,_ ” he begs, voice soft and wounded. “Please. Please. I can’t!” But Lucio gives him a stiff little shake.

“ _No,_ , Julian. Keep your eyes on me. I don’t care if it hurts. Endure it. ” Julian draws a shuddering gasp and nods, making watery eye contact with difficulty. 

“Good boy,” Lucio says, tenderly. Even in this state Julian can see that he’s looking longingly at his mouth, and feels a heat move through him, a desire to please. He’d welcome to chance please any part of him with his mouth, if Lucio likes it so much, he has only to ask! Lucio brushes his trembling lower lip with the claw of his thumb, but doesn’t kiss him again. Julian wishes he would.

Lucio says, “I may discipline you if you require correction. And I’ll hurt you simply for pleasure - yours and mine - whenever I wish, but I will not abandon you. I can see that you accustomed to abandonment by the less discerning, but do not confuse me with the fools you have known in your past. I find it an insulting comparison.” 

Julian barks a laugh of disbelief before he can school himself, and Lucio gives him a hard look.   
But his mouth is racing ahead of his brain, as it so often does… why hasn’t Lucio stopped his mouth, why hasn’t he covered it with his hand?? 

Right out loud, Julian blurts, “Why _wouldn’t_ you? You are powerful, magnificent, and I am… less,” he trails off, pathetic, hating his mouth and his brain and himself. 

Lucio merely twitches an eyebrow at him, as if he expected no less from the unruly whelp currently leashed to his bed and pinned by the weight of his body. “Ah,” says Lucio. “I see.” 

Julian isn’t sure what it is that he sees, but Lucio takes a steadying breath - which in itself is strange - his silver eyes searching Julian’s own. “I had hoped to avoid this, but… well.”

Julians frowns at him, feeling a foreboding in his chest. “My lord?” 

Lucio taps his mouth with a fingertip. He seems somber. “Hush. Let me speak. ...You laugh, but I assure you I’m completely sincere. This is partly because you satisfy a great many of my own needs and requirements--” He pauses, with the air of a man about to confess a long-held and shameful secret, and then presses on. Bravely, Julian senses and thinks. “--and partly because I am in love with you.”

Julian gasps, gapes at him, his eyes widening, his mouth stuttering open. Distantly, he reads in Lucio’s face that this is a satisfying level of drama, but he’ll think process that later. For now, he can only gawp at him, like a fish that’s flopped its way on deck, the air gone from the room, wordless with genuine shock. Count Lucio laughs bitterly, nodding in agreement. 

“...I know, my own reaction was much the same. And believe me when I say that it pains me to admit to such weakness… but I have never been a coward, and I will not be one now. I’ve tried everything I know to eradicate the pathology of this ‘love’, but there seems to be no cure. And as it seems to be terminal… the only reasonable treatment is your continued proximity. Don’t you agree, Doctor?” 

Julian gazes foolishly at him, blinking his eyes clear of welling tears that threaten to blind him. There’s so _much_ he wants to say! So many questions, so much gratitude and adoration to pour into his ears… but Lucio rests the sharp edge of two claws against his lips, silencing him. Julian moans with the frustration of restraint, but doesn’t try to talk. 

“I’ll want you to wear this collar until the end of the week… by which time I’ll have your permanent collar ready for you, if you want it. Do you? Want it?” Lucio’s gaze is searching, uncharacteristically uncertain. In a voice that is softer but still even, he adds, “You will not be punished if you refuse. I am a difficult man, everyone says so, and you may wish to keep your options--” 

“ _I want it!_ ” Julian cries, frantic with his need to communicate. In his urgency he’s cut his mouth against the restraining claws, but he’s far beyond caring about it. 

“Ah. Good.” Lucio’s beyond caring about it too, apparently. He only smiles, relieved. He breathes out, and Julian is startled to realize he’s been holding his breath while he waited for the answer. “That’s good.” 

Delicately, he runs his good thumb against the two shallow cuts his claws have left behind on Julian’s lips, then brings it to his mouth, sucking it clean without a word, watching his face. Julian doesn’t know the name for what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t - can’t - look away. 

Lucio leans in until they’re touching, forehead to forehead, his breath warm against him. He slides his fingers - well four fingers and four claws - through the hair at Julian’s temples, as he cradles his face in two hands. “I give you my word that you never have be alone again - not unless you want to. You are mine to care for now, and ...I’m going to keep you. Either forever, or for as long as you want to stay. One doesn’t leave a rare treasure at the side of the road to be looted and ruined. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Julian, who definitely doesn’t trust himself to speak, simply nods, several times. His tears spill from his eyes, running freely down his cheeks. Julian lifts his hands to his face, and Lucio wrenches them away roughly, pinning them at his sides. “I told you not to do that,” he growls, but he seems pleased. He lifts his chin with his claws, looking into his face with mock severity. 

“Y-yes, Lucio,” his pet whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Lucio husks, kissing along his jaw. “You’ve had a difficult day and night. And tonight’s not going to be any better for you,” he murmurs, nipping at his skin. 

Julian shivers. There’s a feeling of protest from his weary body - he’s so tired, both physically and emotionally, and now he has a great deal more to think about. But if Lucio wants him… nothing matters as much as that, nothing ever could. He’ll serve him as long as he can remain conscious, he’ll serve him until his muscles give way under the strain and he has no more air left in his lungs to scream with. He feels Lucio’s mouth working it’s way down his throat, warm and wet. His kisses are so gentle now. Even though he knows, without a doubt, that the hard, hurting bite is coming, Julian lets his head fall back, trustingly, his eyes half-closed, an unfamiliar joy swimming like an intoxicant in his veins.

“Yes, Lucio,” he sighs. This earns him gradual closing of Lucio’s teeth at the side of his neck, deep and aching, followed by a slow, sucking kiss in the same place. Julian keens with need, his back arching, and lifts his arms to cling to Lucio’s shoulders. 

“Good boy, Julian,” Lucio purrs.


	3. Another Cut Scene/Alternate Ending/Original Ending cut from Things Go Wrong: Sublime Verse

**This is part of the original ending for Things Go Wrong, and I think I had published this originally. But I didn't like it, it was too victim-y and kind of trite. But here it is.**

** ** ** 

“Oh, he’s charming! Such a pretty thing. But I was under the impression that Vesuvia does not keep a slave class?”

The speaker is the Milovian ambassador Madam Shilan, an exotic, dark eyed-woman dressed in a flowing garment as red as a poppy. In a sea of black and white and gold clothing, she stands out like a bright flower in a field of wheat. She runs a graceful fingertip along the bright links of Julian’s leash as she praises him, but addresses only Lucio. They are conversing in her native tongue, which she likely assumes a man wearing a leash and collar does not understand.

Julia is offended by the implication - but before he can open his mouth to retort (and perhaps cause an international incident) he feels Lucio take his hand, lacing their fingers. This touch, he recognizes at once, is less a demonstration of affection than a silent warning, imploring Julian to bite his tongue. keep his thoughts to himself. _Behave yourself among the well-dressed people, Julian._

“We do not,” Lucio replies, with a charming smile of his own. “Dr. Devorak, here,” he gestures toward Julian, with a hand that also holds a long-stemmed glass, “...is a senior member of the medical staff at the royal palace, where he is known to be quite accomplished! He is also my personal physician.” 

“And yet, you keep him collared and leashed?” The Ambassador’s voice has a pleasant lilt, one he recognizes as typical of Milovian speakers of Vesuvian, or any other language with similar rounded vowels and hard ‘r’ and ‘t’ sounds. Under better circumstances, Julian would quite enjoy just listening to it. 

“I do so because he enjoys it,” Lucio explains fondly. “He’s free to take it off at any time.” When she still looks skeptical, he turns to Julian, asking him in Vesuvian, “Dr. Devorak, do you wish to remove your collar and leash? The lady is concerned that you are uncomfortable.”

“Thank you Madam Ambassador, I am quite at ease in my jewelry - although I do appreciate your kind concern,” he explains politely… but in Milovian. It has the desired effect: The ambassador blushes in a very fetching way before she excuses herself from the conversation, clearly humiliated by her own breach of etiquette, and her assumptions. 

Once she’s gone, Lucio drops his hand, and gives the leash a warning tug. “Behave yourself,” he chides Julian. “We need her goodwill in order to finalize trade talks with Prakara and Atapra.”

Oh, how Julian _wants_ to be good! He does! But he can’t resist the temptation of a small jab, being perfectly positioned to deliver it: “Shall I go after her and offer to let her hold the end of my leash?” he asks, feigning innocence. “She seems so interested. I do think that might bring her around.” 

Count Lucio gives him a level look, Julian looks back at him guilelessly. “Only if it would please my lord, of _course_ ,” he demures. He waits for Lucio to chide him, or perhaps to tease him back, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he gives Julian a cool, assessing look that Julian doesn’t care for, then looks him slowly up and down. “You know… you aren’t wrong,” Lucio murmurs, mostly to himself. “Perhaps… yes. Yes, it’s a good idea, in fact.” 

Julian bites his lip, regretting his gambit. “What is, my lord?” 

“Your suggestion.” Lucio’s smile is thin. “In a little while, I’d like you to seek out Madam Shilan and ask her to dance, by way of apology. Explain that you’re a shameless rogue but you meant no real harm - flirt a bit. Not too much. Choose of the slower dances.”

“Yes, my lord.” Julian nods his acquiescence, trying not to show his dismay too overtly. 

He hears Lucio’s words again: _If you disappoint me…_ and feels a hollow unhappiness open up within him. Already he’s watched Lucio share dances with several important people. Oh, he’s undoubtedly working political subterfuge or closing deals between steps, but easy way that he moves on the dance floor, holding another in his arms, makes Julian burn with jealousy all the same. It doesn’t help his mood that that Lucio sees fit to leash him to the leg of a table whenever he’s so occupied… but he knows he deserves it, for the way he’s behaved. He just wishes he didn’t feel so wretched. Why can’t he be cold and distant when he wants, untouchable and unhurt? Like Lucio? 

Still, Julian has been obediently attentive to the order of songs - when he senses a waltz coming on, he murmurs discretely to Lucio who is deep in conversation with the glamorous Atapran diplomat, a small man with delicate features who Julian feels is getting entirely too much of Lucio’s attention, and excuses himself. A moment later Julian is holding the end of his own leash for the first time in 24 hours, feeling the strangeness of it, as winds his way through the crowd, to the side of Madam Shilan. 

She is, as Lucio had correctly predicted, quite pleased to see him again, and not at all cross. He finds her quite pleasant in fact, and would enjoy her banter immensely if he were not here as a peace offering, and more or less against his will. Then music changes, he makes a courtly bow, a moment later he’s leading her out onto the floor.   
(The leash only provides the slightest of impediments, which he solves by doubling the handle before sliding it over one wrist, so that it dangles from his arm like exotic jewelry, catching the light. Lucio was right; it IS pretty, and he’s better served by displaying it than by trying to hide it.)

Madam Shilan is, he’s pleasantly surprised to learn, an exquisite dancer, and a pleasant conversation as well. She smells of bergamot and sandalwood, and she is light in his arms. 

They exchange no political secrets and certainly no promises, and yet Julian is _quite_ certain, by the time the dance is finished, that she’ll now be far more likely to side with Lucio in the upcoming trade agreements. Maybe Julian is cut out for politics after all! Feeling satisfied he leaves her with a flirtatious kiss to the back of her right hand, which renews her pretty blush, then removes himself to scan the room for Lucio. 

But... he can’t find Lucio. He feels his heart begin to beat too quickly, knows he’s being foolish. Carefully casual, he wanders back toward where he’d last seen him, deep in conversation with the Atapran diplomat… but neither man is to be seen. He feels the weight of the collar, suddenly heavy on his neck. 

Well, it’s a large room. And Lucio has better things to do than wait around for him all night, surely. He makes himself breathe more slowly, doing what he can to calm his hear-trate - there’s no need, after all, to panic. After all, Julian wasn’t doing anything wrong, indeed he was doing what he’d been asked, he’s been _good!_ When a rush off irrational fear returns to him, he looks for a place to sit down.

* * *

Julian has arranged himself in a posture of casual waiting at one of the tables dotting the edge of the dance floor, his legs crossed at the knee, head cocked at a slightly jaunty angle, as if he has nothing on his mind beyond showing off, watching the dancers, and waiting for his escort to return. By now he’s accepted a glass of--something-- from a servant circulating with a tray of drinks, which he sips without tasting it. He tries to watch the flashing legs and spinning skirts of the partygoers but he can’t seem to distract himself. Doesn’t Lucio know that he requires _near-constant supervision?_ Gods only know what he might get up to, left to his own devices… Lucio said it himself, he’s a wild animal! 

...Julian sighs. He thinks, with a confusion of longing and shame, about the comfort of Lucio’s hand holding the end of his leash. Is this really what Julian has become? ...Pathetic. If he were Lucio, he’d probably want a moment away from himself too. _Just see that you behave yourself,_ Lucio had said. 

But he hadn’t, had he? Oh, he’d tried…! But as usual, he’s fallen short of the mark. Maybe Lucio has abandoned him here, temporarily, to punish him. 

When another servant passes with a tray of drinks, Julian down the glass of whatever-it-is that he has, and takes two more.

* * *

He’s not wearing a timekeeping piece, but Julian is working on his fifth cocktail, with Lucio still nowhere to be seen, when he feels a sharp tug at the end of the leash he’s let trail carelessly over the back of his chair. He turns at once, excited and relieved, expecting that his wandering Count has returned. But it’s someone else. 

The Atapran diplomat - whose name he isn’t even sure he knows - smiles coyly at him. The diplomat is a small man, lovely in his proportions, with a cruel smile that reminds him a little of Lucio’s own. But that’s the only point of similarity - the man before him wears his long, platinum hair in soft curls threaded with tiny jewels that reflect the light, his eyes are a strange, shifting amber. He’s undeniably attractive.. But the effect on Julian is only superficial, his thoughts being focused elsewhere. 

Still, he hasn’t forgotten his manners. “Sir Ambassador,” he offers, with a welcoming smile. “What a pleasure to see you again!” He reaches, casually, for the end of his leash, which the other man still retrains. But it’s pulled out of his reach, with a light tug at his throat. Julian’s eyes widen in alarm. The Atapran diplomat looks at him like a cat with a dish of cream. 

“I’ve been sent to fetch you for your Master,” he says airly by way of explanation. He gives an experimental rattle of the leash, and seems pleased with the jangling result. “...Will you come?” 

Obviously, the question is only a formality, because he’s already on his feet, beginning to move away. “Ah, I, of course, Yes.” Julian stammers. The world spins as Julian rises from his chair, and he has time to think, belatedly, that all those drinks must have been a bit stronger than he thought. Struggling to maintain his composure, he allows himself to be led away. 

The Atapran man - Haniche, that’s his name! - is drawing Julian out of the crowded ballroom, down one hallway and then another, and soon they’re entirely alone. Julian looks around, confused, as the effects of both his surprise and his five cocktails beginning to wane enough for him to come to his senses… and he stops in his tracks, closing one hand on the slack in the leash so he won't’ be throttled for his efforts. Everything feels wrong. This is wrong. Watching the smaller man be jerked backwards by the leash he holds is somewhat gratifying, but the thunderous look he levels on Julian is not. Julian leans against the wall for support, head spinning.

“What do you think you’re doing!” the other man demands, voice loud in the empty hallway. “Would you disobey your Master?” 

“Lucio… never calls himself my Master,” Julian says, carefully. “Did he really send you?” 

The Atapran - Haniche - glowers at him… then relents, smiling licentiously. “Alright, you’ve caught me out you have,” he admits, moving closer. “But how else was I to get you alone? Now be a good boy for us,” he coos, hooking a finger beneath Julian’s collar…

For one sick moment Julian is mesmerized… by the touch, the command, the strangeness of it all - and he lets himself be pulled forward, confused and utterly lost. He can taste the stringent flavor of alcohol on the man’s breath, smell his flowery cologne. 

...then the stranger’s mouth touches his, and he pulls away with a cry, horrified. 

“ _No!_ I don’t want-- this. Where is Count Lucio?” 

Haniche’s mouth tightens with disapproval - or perhaps just disappointment, and he pulls on the leash hard, dragging Julian forward, making him stumble. 

“Oh, don’t play the virgin,” the man spits, his words oily and slick. “Every man here can see what you are. Your Count Lucio is probably miles away by now, he excused himself as soon as he sent you way to romance his ally. Do you really think he cares what you do, or what’s done to you? Now _do as you’re told_ , and maybe I won’t tell your keeper that you tried to refuse a guest.” 

“He-- no, he wouldn’t do that,” Julian breathes, hating that he’s not sure, “...and I’m not a party favor. _Let go of my leash._ ” 

Haniche looks at him with pure disdain, an aristocrat examining a stray he’s found in the street. He pulls at the length of chain again, hard, and it bites into Julian’s neck, making him gasp for breath.

Without recourse, Julian grabs the lead and snaps it out of the diplomat's hands - he’s no physical match for Julian, it’s not difficult - and pushes him backward. It’s not meant to be a hard push, just enough to get him away from Julian, but he hasn’t had time to judge the force, he’s frightened and slightly drunk, and the ambassador goes sprawling against the opposite wall of the narrow hallway, face twisting in anger.

“I’ll see that you’re hanged for this, you insolent strumpet! Vesuvia will suffer for it! You’re such a disgrace, I can’t believe I thought you were worth my time to begin with… you’re not even worth the trouble.” He spits on the ground at Julian’s feet, breathing hard, backing away.

Julian presses himself against the wall, hardly able to comprehend the speed at which everything’s gone wrong. He should have just gone along with him, it would have been better… wouldn’t it? He won’t be hung for it, but Vesuvia WILL suffer… talks will go badly, and Lucio will be so angry with him. Did he really leave him here? Was the vile man telling the truth? He closes his eyes, overwhelmed, and tries to think of what to do. 

“I’m... sorry,” he hears himself saying. He feels the other man coming close again, made bold by Julian’s vulnerability, seizing him roughly by the collar… 

...and then there’s a startling absence as he’s gripped from behind and shoved aside, someone stronger and more sure than Julian pushing the interloper so hard that Julian hears him fall on the ground with a curse, someone is speaking curtly to him in in Milovan. Then, like a minor miracle, he hears him retreat down the hallway. 

“Oh, my dear! Are you alright?” 

The tone is warm and concerned, but… female. _Not Lucio._ Julian opens his eyes. _Shilan?_

Her expression is both gentle and horrified, and she leans close without touching him. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?Did he hurt you? I came as quickly as I could when I saw him leading you away.” He watches as she does quick body-scan of his state, again without touching. He feels, faintly, the soft, invisible fingers of her magic moving over him, checking for injury. Finding none, she seems to relax a little, and the sense of magic moving over his skin withdraws. 

Julian swallows, which hurts, and runs a hand down his throat. In a rusty voice, he wonders: “You’re a witch?” 

“I prefer ‘Magician’, “ she smiles, but there’s no malice in it. “You are unhurt.” It isn’t a question. 

His head swims. “How did you know, about...?”

She sighs. “Haniche has a certain… reputation. I didn’t think he’d be this bold, not when you’re clearly under the protection of someone more powerful than he, but...” she lets the sentence trail off, and Julian nods. 

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it. 

Shilan retrieves the end of his leash from where it dangles against the wall… and presses it back into his hand. “Will you walk back with me?”

Julian smiles, slow and genuine. “Delighted.” He offers her his arm, and she takes it.

** ** **   
Madam Shilan not only accompanies him back into the safe, crowded ballroom, but sits with him at one of the little tables, gracious asking if he’d mind keeping her company while she waits to meet with someone, as she is much too tired to dance. He recognizes this for the kindness it is, but doesn’t mind the subterfuge. He could use a bit of kindness, if it’s on offer. He wonders, idly, how he’s going to get home if Lucio has really left him here, but he’ll figure it out when the time comes. He’s nothing if not resourceful, after all. 

They’ve only been waiting through two dances, the Milovan ambassador doing everything she can to cheer and distracted the frazzled doctor, when Julian feels a touch at his shoulder: this time, it really is Lucio. Lucio, who didn’t leave without him, and would not have. 

Julian feels worry seize him - how much trouble is he going to be in, exactly? Lucio’s face is difficult to read. “I heard there was some trouble?” he asks, in a measured way. Julian swallows, hard. 

“Lucio, I… didn’t mean for it to happen, please. I’m so sorry.” He feels shame rise in his throat again, but Madam Shilan rests a soothing hand on his forearm, gentling him. He’s grateful, even as he watches Lucio watching his interaction, his gaze resting on her hand where it touches Lucio’s property. 

Lucio, lacking Julian’s tact, doesn’t hesitate. “What’s the meaning of this?” 

“Please, Count Lucio,” his protector demures in her softly accented Vesuvian, “He’s had a difficult evening.” Then, without qualms, she begins succinctly lay out what Julian’s just been subjected to, and by whom. As he listens, Lucio’s face grows red with anger, his expression darkening like a stormcloud. 

“He _what?_ ” He rises with purpose, throwing off Shilan’s hand when she attempts to restrain him. 

“Wait, please! He’ll cause no end of trouble…” 

“Like hell he will,” Lucio growls. “I’ll show him trouble!” 

Before he turns on his heel, he makes fierce eye contact with the ambassador. “Stay with him,” he snaps, just as if giving her orders was within his realm of power. Evidently it is, for she nods easily. 

Julian puts his head in his hands. “This is all my fault, oh god…” But Madam Shilan takes his hand, firmly. 

“None of this is your fault,” she says, steadily. 

At some point while waiting, Julian has unclipped his leash and put it into a pocket. When Lucio asks, he simply hands it to him. Lucio leashes him again, wrapping the end about his wrist to keep it short. He doesn’t let Julian out of his sight again for the rest of the evening: not when he talks to his political allies in public, not when he talks in private, not even to use the restroom (which Lucio reasonably points out is far from the most private thing he’s seen him do.) They don’t leave right away, Lucio stating correctly that he can’t, but he keeps Julian all but pinned to him, his leash short, within touching distance at all times, and touches him often. There are no more dances. 

“Where is the Ambassador from Atapran?” he overhears someone ask Lucio, much later. 

Lucio’s eyes narrow, but his face remains otherwise impassive. “Gone.” 

They leave the party not long after.

* * *

The carriage-ride home is quiet. Julian is exhausted. He rouses himself to ask, only once, “Am in trouble?” 

“No,” says Lucio, shortly. Julian nods and puts his head back down into his folded arms. 

“Come here,” Lucio says to him, a little while later. He opens his eyes to find Lucio holding out a hand. Julian takes it, and Lucio pulls him across the cushioned bench to fold his arms around him, resting his chin against the top of Julian’s head. Julian would weep with relief, probably, if only he weren’t so tired. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lucio says quietly, a long while later. He hasn’t released him from his protective embrace, and doesn’t do so until the carriage stops moving at the end of the journey. They ride home in silence, and the rattling of the wheels and the throb of Lucio’s heart lulls Julian into drowsiness.


	4. "Julian, get under the table and suck my cock."

**I have no context for this, and no excuse. Sometimes, you just want your pet doctor to suck you off, you know?**

** ** **  
“Julian.” 

“Count Lucio?”

“...get under the table and suck my cock.”

...It’s an ordinary command, one that he’s used to, and likes. He’s not, however, used to receiving it in quite these circumstances. 

(He knows, even, that he’s not the thing that turned him on. He’s seen the way that Lucio’s been staring at the Ambassador from Prakra. And it’s hard to blame him. But now, having grown bored of the presentations and apparently aroused by the pretty politician two tables away, he has expressed no desire to seduce or court the ambassador - he simply wants his favorite pet between his legs, relieving the tension and the boredom with his skilled mouth. It’s hard for Julian to feel slighted; he feels flattered.) 

It’s somewhat unusual for Lucio to ask him to serve in this way, in this setting. But he doesn’t usually hesitate when commanded this way, and he doesn’t hesitate now. Sliding from his chair, he crawls beneath the table and parts Count Lucio’s thighs, daring one coy glance upward at him - Lucio is watching him, his gaze heavy-lidded with desire. He wastes no time in unlacing Lucio’s fancy trousers and freeing his cock - already stiff - to draw the head into his mouth. He works it over with his tongue, closing his own eyes to savor the taste and feel of it in his mouth - he loves Lucio’s heat, as his cockhead rests heavy on his tognue, loves the taste that is peculiar to him and the salt of his precum. He feels Lucio’s core tighten, and presses in to take more of him into his throat, hollowing his cheeks around him as he sucks. Lucio’s groan is loud in his ears, although probably not loud enough to carry, thick with praise: 

‘Ohh, fuck, you’re so good. That’s a good boy. Good boy, Julian. Ahh, fuck yes!” 

...when he comes, which happens quickly, Lucio fists a hand in Julian’s hair and pressed him in, until his nose touches his belly and Julian’s throat threatens to rebel it’s only through an effort of will that he keeps from gagging. Lucio’s cock pulses violently in his throat, spilling his seed into him, thickly. Lucio’s low, satisfied sounds are worth any amount of effort, as he releases him to finish cleaning him up, then tuck his satisfied cock back into his clothes and do him back up. As he rests his cheek on Lucio’s thigh, catching his breath, Lucio strokes his face. 

“You’re such a good boy,” he murmurs, adoringly, and Julian's heart aches with happiness. Instead of returning to his seat he curls up between Lucio’s legs and clings to him, and Lucio lets him. Julian is hard, needy, but he knows he'll have to wait. He tries to think about something else, anything else. 

During the break, as a reward, Lucio walks him to a nearby alcove, (still leashed of course), and shoves him into a supply closet, where he fucks him up against the wall. His first few strokes are painstakingly slow, Lucio panting with the effort of restraint, breath hot against Julian’s mouth, until Julian craves more stimulation so badly he thinks he might scream. Then Lucio pulls him more tightly into his body and rocks forward into him, swearing under his breath in his native language, and moves faster, harder. Julian feels him thrusting his hips as he pounds into him, seeking the place inside him that will make Julian’s eyes roll back in his head. When he finds it Julian really *does* scream, but Lucio’s hand is already over his mouth, containing him as he fucks in and out of him. 

When he comes, Lucio’s fist tight around him, Lucio’s cock pounding into him, he’s thinking about what Lucio said before - that he’s in love with Julian. Lucio is only moments behind him, spilling inside him as he sinks his teeth into Julians shoulder to muffle his own cries. Afterwards, it’s a few minutes before Julian can walk properly.


	5. Reversal: Part One (Jucio)

**In which our two favorite disaster bois try to sort out whether or not Julian actually has the ability to top. Jucio. No literal smut, just a teaser.**

 

 

(After a scene in whch Lucio makes Julian do some demeaning thing in public - show off his collar, kiss his boots, that sort of thing)

Lucio is looking at him with a considering gaze. “You didn’t like that.”

“Hmm, sorry?” Julian’s tone is as light and mild as ever - Lucio feels another wave of confusion. He has to get to the bottom of this, he has to understand.

“What I made you do just now - you didn’t like it.”

Julian looks up, faint amusement clear on his face. “That’s true, but I do a great many things I don’t like - “ he gestures vaguely to the paperwork that surrounds them - “much of it less pleasant than that, and not all of it’s for you, even. I’ve promised to obey you, my lord. I gave you my word. So I do as you wish. Whether I enjoy it or not.” His words have a formal, courtly air that he knows for a fact the doctor is affecting on purpose. 

Lucio doesn’t understand, not really. He hates this feeling, of being left out of something. He tries again. 

“But what did you get out of it?”

“My lord?” It’s Devorak’s turn to look confused. 

“I didn’t order you to, I just asked you to do it.”

“Er, yes? I know.”

“I didn’t threaten you with anything.”

“Did you mean to?”

“No, but… you *weren’t* in any kind of…. Submissive mind…” he’s beginning to flounder, frustrated. 

“No,” Julian agrees, studying his face, frowning in confusion.

“You weren’t even aroused.”

Julian blushes. “Not at that moment, no.” 

“And you disliked it. You felt embarrassed to be singled out that way, without any warning. There were a great many people there, some of whom you prefer to impress, many you work with in your professional capacity.”

Julian’s blush only deepens, as he takes a breath, perhaps recalling the embarrassment of the moment. “That’s all true, my lord. But what could I do, when you asked it of me?” He’s looking into Lucio’s face, gently bewildered. 

“You might have refused. Or objected. Or obeyed, but in such a way as to make your unhappiness clear. But you did none of those things. You… you followed my orders as prettily and as easily as you always do, only without any reason to do so.”

“My lord… Lucio, I had the same reasons I always have. I am yours. He lifts his chin and turns his head to one side, displaying his collar in a pleasing way.” 

“But you weren’t… I didn’t…” It’s strange for Lucio to flounder like this, and Lucio hates it. “I’ve said I won’t send you away. You don’t fear punishment, as far as I’m aware you rather enjoy it. It was nothing more than a conscious choice for you.”

“Yes, that’s true?”

“I don’t understand. You can choose?”

“My lord?”

“To obey, to disobey… you have full control over it?” 

Julian stares at him for a moment, totally nonplussed. “Always,” he says finally, simply. Then, after a too-long pause: “Did you think I was helpless to my… my submissive nature? That I’ve surrendered to you, all this time, because I *have* to?” 

“I…” But he *had* thought so, hadn’t he? Devorak has certain needs that he must have fulfilled, and Lucio… well, Lucio is the best. It’s that simple. Or so he’s always believed, until now. 

“Don’t you?”

Lucio doesn’t like the way that Julian’s looking at him, fond and exasperated, and as if he knows something that Lucio doesn’t. It makes him feel very strange. 

Very simply, Julian says, “No. I’ve never *had* to. There’s a choice, always. Even when I want to, desperately, there’s a choice.”

Lucio wants to hold back the question, keep something for himself, refuse to admit to this new, unpleasant vulnerability. But he *can’t*. “Then *why*” he demands, completely at a loss, “Why spend so much time at my feet, then??”

His pet, his beloved, impossible pet doctor, looks at him with something dangerously close to condescension, and Lucio narrows his eyes. 

“*Because*,” Julian says, slowly and patiently, “They’re *your* feet.”

Carefully, Julian unfolds himself from his chair and drops to his knees, here on his ordinary office floor, offering a demonstration. His long hands slide from Lucio’s thighs all the way down to his knees, and his expression is gentle. “I am yours,” he says - not a plea, but a reassurance. This, then, is for Lucio, and for no other reason - Devorak doesn’t need it, but he believes Lucio does. Another wave of unreality sweeps over him. What… what is going on here, exactly? 

“It has been a choice, all this time,” Julian murmurs, with more urgency. “Always.” Slowly, gracefully, he lowers his elegant face to the floor, kissing the instep of Lucio’s boot, then looks up at him through his lashes before prostrating himself again. 

“It has been a choice, all this time,” Lucio echoes unwillingly, feeling a strange emotion filling his body. What’s *happening* to him?


	6. Reversal, Part Two (Jucio)

**Jucio teaser, part two.**

* * *

“So, if it’s all a choice for you…”

“Yes, my lord?” His voice encouraging, Julian looks at him with fond amusement - almost, but not quite laughing at him. The look on his face makes Lucio want to put him on the ground and put his foot on his throat. It makes him want to thrust him against the wall and kiss his laughing mouth until he moans. 

Lucio clears his throat, hating Julian, and this moment, and himself. “If it’s all such a choice, then you don’t have to… surrender?” He cocks his head quizzically, as a man trying to understand a word in a foreign language might. 

Julian bites his lip, his eyes dancing with amusement. 

Flatly, Lucio says, “If you laugh at me, I will have you chained to a wall in the dungeon for a week. No one will hurt you physically in any of the ways you like, and you will receive no stimulation. Nothing to read, no one to talk to, and I will not visit you.” 

Julian draws a steadying breath, seems able to contain himself. “Forgive me,” he offers, still far too gently for Lucio’s liking - but he doesn’t correct him. 

“Answer the question.”

“I, ah, don’t have to surrender. I do prefer it, though. By far.” He leans heavily on the last word, imbuing it with a world of meaning. 

“Can you really… “ He doesn’t finish the question, feeling absurd. Julian’s lips quirk into a smile of understanding, and Lucio pictures him chained to a bare stone wall. It’s not an unpleasant image. 

“Are you asking me if I can top?” His smile twitches, and Lucio adds ankle-cuffs to the image - then decides against them, because his deviant darling would enjoy that far too much. Instead he decides that he’ll feed him on the blandest foods possible, nutritious but disgusting, denying him even that pleasure. 

“...yes.” 

It’s Devorak’s turn to lower his eyes, his turn to hesitate. “Erm,” he says, unhelpfully. “Well, that is.” He coughs into his fist. “...Yes,” he admits, finally resuming eye contact.

“Really.”

“I can!” Julian looks indignant.

“Oh yes, of course. You know, I’m not referring to the act of simply playing at being in control because your partner enjoys the illusion, meanwhile carrying out their wishes to the letter, fulfilling their desires at the cost of or in the absence of your own.” Indulging himself in a bit of pettiness, he adds, “You do know the difference, don’t you darling? If not, I can go more slowly.” 

Julian scowls at him, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. He smiles, childishly pleased with himself. 

“I know the difference!” the doctor hisses, offended. “Although, I’ll have you know,” he amends, lifting his chin, “That I am an *excellent* service top!” 

“I have no doubt you are, precious,” Lucio purrs, his smile condescending. 

“You’re lying!” 

Lucio reaches out to pat him on the shoulder, and enjoys the way Julian flinches while he fights the urge to shove the offending hand away. “I’m not. This is teasing. If I were lying, it’d be much harder to tell. Shall I demonstrate the difference between those things as well?” 

Julian opens his mouth to say something cutting, by the look on his face… then stops, closing it again with an audible snap. “You…! You’re trying to *goad* me!” he cries, face a mask of disbelief. “You’re trying to make me angry, to push me into it! *Lucio!*” 

Lucio raises an eyebrow at him, unshaken by this outburst. “Yes, I’m being manipulative. And you, having known me so long and so well, are shocked by this sudden change in behavior.”

Julian pinches the bridge of his nose, closing for eyes. No doubt he’s praying for strength. “Lucio… My lord, we’re not *all* like you.”

Lucio frowns. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that not everyone responds to frustration with the urge to push the perpetrator up against the nearest wall and force them to beg for the privilege of kneeling at your feet.” 

Oh, Lucio’s going to *enjoy* this! How he loves his darling’s clever tongue, his quick wit, the gradual provocation of his slow temper to something that’s truly *interesting!* 

“Oh? But you misread the situation, as always. It’s an understandable outcome, dearest, when one has been raised at sea by racketeers rather than at court. But that particular response is special for *you*. Others I treat with more respect.”

(This is, in fact, a lie. (ucio treats very few people with respect. And of them, ironically he holds Julian in extremely high esteem. The fact that Julian knows this, or should, only makes the barb of humiliation more delicious.) 

Julian, however, looks extremely unimpressed. This is, normally, the part where he should be on his knees, begging Lucio to suck his cock or something. But as much as he likes having his cock sucked, and as impressively skilled as Doctor Devorak is at the task, the preliminary exchange gets a little predictable, over time. Forcing himself down Julian’s tight throat *after* he’s proven that he hasn’t got a properly dominant bone in his oversized body will be *much* more satisfying. Better yet, it will have the added effect of erasing Lucio’s humiliating surrender to Julian’s rebellious behavior of several weeks ago, an incident he knows they both remember well. 

Interrupting his self-congratulations, Julian says with a calm, unperturbed air that Lucio doesn’t like much, “My lord Count Lucio. I wouldn’t have guessed that you had such desires… but if you long for me to dominate you, all you’ve ever had to do was *ask*.” His words are measured, weighted. 

He speaks with nothing but sincerity, but there’s a crisp note to his speech that suggests his pet knows *exactly* what he’s doing. Lucio feels a thrill of anticipation shiver down his spine. He *longs* to defeat him, to have an excuse to really make him beg, but mean it. 

Lucio resists the urge to wet his lips, which would betray his eagerness. “Perhaps I am merely impressed that you believe yourself capable.”

“I can see that.” 

“So you really do believe that you are? Capable of it?” 

“You can say ‘capable of dominating me sexually’ , you know. We aren’t in church.” Julian’s voice is soft, confident. Lucio *likes* him this way. 

“Answer the question, love.”

“Yes. But you don’t believe me.”

Lucio nods, echoing. “I don’t believe you.” 

“You should, you know. It’s the truth. But say your line, I know you’re dying to say it.” Julian allows himself a small smile. Mentally, Lucio pictures him bound to the wall again, begging for mercy. 

“My line?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“On the contrary, I find that I have no idea what you--”

“*SAY* it.” 

The commanding tone makes Lucio’s heart race, singing with excitement. Taking him down is going to be a pure delight, this time. He bites his lip, then grins playfully. Moving forward, crowding into Doctor Devorak’s personal space, he slides his hands against his waist, then lifts his mouth, as if asking for a kiss. 

“*...Show me*.”


	7. Domesticity: Fluff/Smut, Cutscene from Things Go Wrong (Jucio)

**This was a Cut Scene from Things Go Wrong, but I like to think it stands on it's own. Fluff and Smutt, Jucio**

* * *

"...so I'm not in trouble, then?" Julian wonders, anxiously. He takes off his jacket, which is really not his at all, and carefully drapes it across an unoccupied clothes-horse. Not that the careful handling will do much for the stains, but it's the spirit of the thing.

"In trouble? No, not exactly. You weren't at fault," Lucio admits. He appears to be addressing himself in the mirror as he unlaces his cravat. Julian relaxes, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Of course, I am going to punish you for it," Lucio continues casually. Turning from the mirror he puts aside his own tie and holds out a hand to Julian. "Here, let me help you with those, you have all the grace of an intoxicated toddler when it comes to delicate clothing."

Julian moves closer, obligingly, but he can't enjoy the attention as much as usual when he's anticipating his punishment this way. "But, erm... why?" he asks.

Lucio favors him with a chilly look that he doesn't much like, his hands making quick work of Julian's laces and buttons before he slips the shirt over his shoulders. "I hate it when other people touch you," he says, flatly, "Unless I've asked them to. "

"Y-yes, Count Lucio," Julian murmurs, working his trousers off. "And I'm sure you'll do what you like with me. But you just said that... ? It isn't my fault?"

Lucio shrugs. He's wiping off his makeup in the mirror, giving careful attention to the creases near his eyes. "It isn't. But I can't punish them, they aren't here. And I don't have nearly the same level of control over them as I have over you. This is much more convenient to me."

Julian bites his lip. "Yes, Count Lucio. You have to admit it seems a bit... unfair, though?"

"Fairness isn't something I have to consider." He finishes with his face and looks at Julian in an assessing way. "I've lost interest in this conversation - you'll be punished tomorrow, I'm too tired tonight.   
Get on your knees."

Julian, now naked, obeys at once. "My lord?" he murmurs, face already flushed.

Lucio tousles his ungovernable curls with clear affection. But what he says is, "Suck my cock, Ilya."

"Yes, Lucio, " Julian sighs, taking him in his mouth at once. Quickly, he uses his hands and mouth to stroke and suck him to full hardness, so that he can get down to the serious business of getting him off. Already, Julian is half-hard without being touched - being ordered around has that effect on him.

Lucio sighs, stroking his hair. Soon, Julian knows, he will most likely fist a hand in his hair, using it as a convenient handle while he fucks his throat. He doesn't always finish like that, but probably 70% of the time he will. Julian doesn't mind. His gag reflex is getting much easier to suppress, with all the practice he's been getting. He hums contentedly around Lucio's stiffening prick, leaning in with his whole body as he works his mouth along it, one hand stroking him in time, the other wrapped around his Lucio's thigh until he needs it, just enjoying the closeness - almost as much as he enjoys the taste and heat and smell of him. Like his kisses, like his adoration, Julian never gives less than his full attention to even the most casual blowjob.

Lucio closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the attention without worrying about controlling him until he's closer to orgasm. "Good boy, Ilya," he sighs.


	8. Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Oh, there's smut. But there's also a lot of sweetness in here. Violence and cruelty, love and tenderness. All the good stuff, but all together. This one will give you a toothache. Enjoy. (Jucio, as if that needed to be said.**
> 
> * * *

  
Prologue:

_“I misspoke,” he whispers in his ear, “when I said you satisfy me. I mean to say: you complete me.” He feels the shuddering intake of breath from the fool in his arms, and he appends, “Don’t you DARE cry, Devorak, I’m trying to sleep.”_

_Julian does his best, but in the end he cries anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” Lucio soothes, even as he strokes his back and kisses his hair. “Imagine, a grown man like you, falling apart at a little thing like affection.”_

* * *

This happens after he’s fucked him, hard and long, then at the last moment, restless with unnamed need, aching with it, he pulls out, crawls up his body to pin his arms with his knees, and taking himself in hand, jerks himself frantically, cumming enormously in his face. He remains there a moment, panting, feeling the hot energy of the man pinned beneath him, leaning on his knees because he knows it hurts him (hurts his bound arms?) 

When he does relent, it’s only to bend down, licking a stripe of cum from his lips, pulling away when he opens his mouth to be kissed. “Don’t touch it,” he warns, “I want you like that.” 

Nestling himself between his pet's thighs with an air of proprietary contentment, he pushes his legs up and apart commanding only “keep your knees bent” so that he can thrust his fingers inside him, deep, knowing exactly what he’s doing, until he finds his prostate, stroking and massaging the too-sensitive bundle of nerves. Julian arches his back, gasping Lucio’s name, and Lucio withdraws his fingers as he takes his cock in his mouth, feeling Julian tremble all over. Driving his fingers back into him, reaching for his most sensitive and vulnerable place, he digs his claws into the vulnerable skin of his side, drawing deep red gashes in his skin, where he knows the pain will be exquisite. His poor pet comes at once, gasping as his hips thrust helplessly into the tight, wet heat of Lucio’s mouth and throat, his fingers white-knuckled in the bedsheets, spilling into the aristocrat mouth of the ruler of the land as he screams Lucio’s name along with a string of unintelligible words in a language Lucio doesn’t speak. Lucio drives his fingers into him, hurts him unrelentingly with his razor-sharp claws, and swallows his cum, sucking at him as if to pull more and more out of him, until Julian is emptied out, still moaning brokenly, and whispers, please… stop, it hurts… and Lucio pulls back, with a sign of satisfaction. 

He licks a long swath of salty blood from Julian’s side, feeling with his tongue the edges of the new wound, and Julian keens softly under his hands. Crawling up his body with weary grace, he laps at his cheek, tasting himself, tasking his slave’s sweat, and his love. Collapsing next to him, he cleans his face off with the sheet, rough and then tender, delicate and thorough with him. With one hand on his cheek, he presses his forehead to Julian’s temple, closing his eyes and just holding him, *holding* him. 

“Thank you,” Lucio sighs, his voice worn out, deep, sated. 

“I…? Th-thank you,” Julian murmurs, barely able to think. 

“No, stupid,” Lucio breathes, fondly. “You don’t say ‘thank you’ when someone says thank you.” His lips graze the doctor’s cheek, and he feels his pet turn in his arms, curving into him.

“What am I supposed to say, then?” he purrs, pulling Lucio’s arm across his hip as he nestles. “Tell me, and I’ll say anything you like.” 

Lucio smiles against his skin. “You’re supposed to say ‘you’re welcome’, idiot.” 

“Alright,” Julian yawns, agreeably. “But what are you... thanking me for…?” 

With what feels like a great effort, Lucio opens his eyes. Nuzzling. As soft as he’s ever been, or is likely to get. He kisses his pet’s temple, and licks a smear of blood from his own claw. “You… satisfy me,” he murmurs.

“Isn’t that the *idea* my lord Count Lucio?”

“Behave yourself, “ Lucio chides, “And stop being so damned formal in bed, I’ve warned you about that.” 

“Yes, Lucio.”

He moves lower and takes a fold of skin between his teeth, just below his jaw, biting down until Julian whines, then noses against him, nuzzling . “I’ve had so many playthings, so many pets…” 

“Hnnngh,” Julian groans, and then, “That many, eh? You certainly know how to make a fellow feel special,” he teases. “Do you still give us names in your diary, or is in numbers only?”

“You’re confusing me with Valdemar,” Lucio murmurs. “Turn onto your stomach for me , darling.” He doesn’t miss the half-wounded look of desire that Julian throws him in response, probably laboring under the illusion that he’s being subtle.

Settling himself against the mattress - gingerly, Lucio notes, which means the pain is already deepening into his muscles, the endorphins wearing off - Julian replies, “Oh, I could never! They don’t fuck half as well as you do, Lucio.” 

Lucio nuzzles his low back, which only has the thin tail-end of a few whip-strokes, but is probably tender anyway. Lingering, he kisses him there. “I admire your spirit, but something tells me that even you wouldn’t survive that dalliance.”

“Would you miss me?”

“Yes,” Lucio says without hesitation. “Very much. You are a treasure, the kind of prize I can’t easily replace. Which is fortunate for you, considering what a nuisance you are.” 

Julian pillows his head on one arm and makes a low growling sound of happiness, and Lucio feels that elusive feeling of light within him again. It sometimes visits him at times like these, but he can’t make it come when he wants it, and has yet to understand what it is or means. Lucio trails kisses to and then across the rounded globes of his ass. Sucking his fingers to wet them, he spread his open and carefully caresses the sensitive skin around his entrance.

Julian cries out, his thighs spreading, hips lifting, as he responds to Lucio’s touch without shame or reservation. “M-my lord!” he gasps. His formality, Lucio decides, is actually quite charming.

“You see,” he muses, reaching across Julian to fumble for the little container or oil in the headboard, “It’s not difficult, of course, to find someone who will serve me…” he empties a stream of the thick oil into his palm, noting with displeasure how little is left.

“Mmmm,” Julian agrees, still lethargic from use and softly content at the prospect of being used yet again. 

“...But it’s so rare, for anyone to really satisfy me…” continues Lucio, warming the oil in his hands. “I’m not entirely sure why. True I am a man of singular tastes,” he considers, as he slides his fingers against Julian’s undoubtedly tender entrance, then, slowly, methodically working them in and out of him while he cries out. “But I don’t consider my desires - Don’t tighten up, like that, darling - to be so extreme as all that. It’s strange that I am so seldom sated by my pets, and some of them try so hard poor things.”

Without fully meaning to he’s let his fingers find and caress those places where the good doctor is the most sensitive, and now Julian is panting, rutting back against his hand, his fists white in the bedsheets. “I-I’m sorry that y-you don’t… ah!... receive the… the um… pleasure you...give to others, my Count,” he stutters, trying hard not to lose the thread of conversation.

 

“Hmmm? Oh, but you misunderstand, my dear!” Lucio corrects him, as his interjection interrupts his own meanderings. “It’s been that way with most, but *you* my pet, with your surrender and your suffering… ah, you *do!* There’s something about the quality of your submission that is ineffable! You’re so precious and rare! That’s why I could hardly believe old what’s-his-name let you go, really I’m starting to wonder if he’s just not very bright…”

*”Lucio!”* Julian pleads, trembling under his casual attention.

“Hmmm? Oh! Sorry, love,” he purrs, not sounding very sorry at all.

 

He seeks out the wounds on Julian’s side and squeezes the skin there to make him cry out, then cups his cheek and takes his mouth. 

When he’s had his fill of kisses - tasting the blood and cum on his lips - he wraps him in his arms again, his lips very near his ear, whispering, “Ohh, Ilya. I’m going to hurt you so *much*!” 

The doctor whines in his arms, and clings to him. “I’m going to fuck your throat while I have you whipped until you’re raw,” Lucio says, dreamily. “I’m going to bind you to a cross in the garden and make you beg for pain in front of everyone you know.” He bites his neck gently, sucking at his warm skin. “I’m going to give you to others just because it hurts you, One day, when you finally trust me completely , I’m going to leave you alone in the dark until you think your worst fears have come true.”

then spend days and days putting your broken heart back together again. I’m going to learn everything you’re most afraid of and do it to you, and after I’ve broken you apart you’ll crawl to my feet again and again, begging for more, because there will be no one else who knows what you need the way that I know. I’m going to find every last thing that makes you cry out with pleasure, or shine with joy, and I’m going to do all of that to you too. And you’ll never know which thing is coming, and soon you won’t be able to tell them apart, and you’re going to be mine *forever*. Oh, my love.”

Lucio buries his face in his neck, holding him as tightly as he possibly can. “*That’s what I’m thanking you for, you dumb animal, you gorgeous thing. You’re a gift. I’m going to be so good to you. I’m going to hurt you so much. You satisfy the thing that screams and howls in me, and I’m going to keep you forever. I’ll be so good to you. Thank you, thank you.” 

Julian turns in his arms, looking up at him with his beautiful eyes. His gaze isn’t hazy, like it sometimes is after these sessions, but clear, awake, and knowing. He takes Lucio’s hand, where it cups his cheek, threading their fingers together, kissing his knuckles. “You’re welcome, idiot,” he sighs, tucking his head beneath his chin. They fall asleep, like that.


	9. Deserving of Love: Sublime Verse Drabble (Jucio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This one's a mess - I combined two scenes by accident, but I'll do my best to smear the lines so that it works. Jucio, Sublime Verse, Smut and Love.**

“You told Asra I deserved love, once.”

Lucio turns to look at him, surprised. “You remember that?”

“Mmhm.” 

Lucio muses on that. “Intriguing. Tell me, what else do you recall from…”

“You’re evading the question. My lord.”

...if the honorific is less than serious, it’s only because they’re both still glowing in the aftermath of a particularly harsh scene. Julian, whose stripes are still red and burning on his pale skin, is soft and playful, confident for now in his worth. Lucio draws his fingers down one of the angry red lines striping his chest, pressing down to distract him. Julian moans, arching his back. He sounds delicious, and it occurs to Lucio belatedly that he’s also distracting himself. 

“Gods, the way you *sound* “ he purrs, leaning across the bed to run his tongue along one. Julian makes a sweetly helpless sound that curls up inside Lucio’s belly like warm red wine. Lucio, needing to hear it again, drops his head to suck at the same spot. He’s rewarded with another whine of surrender, and is weighing the relative merits of having him again versus letting him rest so he can heal, when the doctor reminds him, “I remember all of it… m-my lord!” (He finishes with a shuddering gasp, as Lucio drags his teeth against the fresh injuries)

“Do you think you can tolerate a little more use, darling?” 

“*Yes*! Ilya agrees at once, with a yearning enthusiasm. 

(Afterward, Lucio promises, he’ll tell him what he meant by it, when he told Asra he deserved to be loved. Obviously, he doesn’t keep that promise. He's a terrible liar, at times.) 

“Lie on your stomach for me, love.” 

As they continue their conversation, he spreads him open and begins to caress him with lubricated fingers - and Julian, sensitive almost to the point of pain after their hard play and continuous fucking, almost loses his mind with the need for more. 

Lucio, driven by a deep and sudden need to HAVE him, spreads his thighs and mounts, almost losing control of himself as he enters him. He fucks him deep and slow, groaning in his ear each time he bottoms out. He slides an oiled fist around his pet’s over-sensitive cock… but just as he trembles on the edge of fucking them both senseless, ready to ride that last mile toward orgasm, he finds that he needs, suddenly and completely, to be face to face with him. To take his mouth. To see his eyes. To BE with him, looking into him, as he comes. 

This though presents a problem: wanting intimacy and not intense sadism, he doesn’t want to make him lie on his abused back, the friction of their fucking and the sting of sweat aggravating the wounds. Not only would it hurt him much more than he wants to at the moment, but the pain would undoubtedly interfere with Lucio’s enjoyment because it will redirect all of Julian’s attention (understandably) to his throbbing back, when it should be on him, Lucio. 

After considering a few options, he rolls onto his own back. “No, hush, I haven’t gone far,” he soothes the whining doctor. “Get on top of me.” 

Julian does, but hovers on his knees and hands above him, not sure if he’s meant to impale himself on Lucio’s dripping cock or if he’s there to some other purpose. He looks to Lucio for help, and Lucio grins. He guides him into position, hands on his hips, and tells him, “Down,” as he spreads him apart and lifts his own hips to meet him. His pet complies readily, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the sensation, and for a moment all they can do is hold one anaother, lost in it. 

Julian begins to move his hips, guided by need, but Lucio stills him with his hands, ordering. “No. Don’t move.” And he stops at once. 

Lucio says, “I want to take you,”

And before he can finish, Julian breathes, “Yes, my lord,” in a way that is so breathlessly reverent that Lucio thinks he might come just high on the adoration in his voice. But slowly, he recovers himself. 

“Lower your weight to your forearms and then give me your mouth.” 

Julian complies, and Lucio feels much of his weight shift to his own body, and then his mouth is a breath from his, not pressing forward, but waiting, obediently and full of need, to be taken. 

*Good* boy,” Lucio breathes. 

And gods, isn’t he? “You’re so good for me,” Lucio purrs in his ear, meaning it. And in another moment he’s fucking up into him, flexing the well-used muscles of his own hips and pelvis, enjoying the soreness there, one hand on Julian’s hip and one his his hair, and as he fucks him he takes his mouth too, hungrily possessive, and *god*. This is it, this is everything he’s wanted, he cries out with the pleasure of it and feels Julian shudder against him and oh! He IS a good boy, he’s everything Lucio has ever wanted, and Lucio is going to keep him forever.

Lucio feels himself on the edge of his climax but he stops, making the doctor whine a plea, just long enough to coat his good hand with that thick oil and wrap it around Julian’s cock. The good doctor doesn’t QUITE come right then, but it’s a near thing. This time as he ruts up into him, he strokes him at the same time, easily falling into the deep rhythm that he likes, and as he falls over the edge, he’s only distantly aware of Julian coming against his belly, not as much this time as usual, considering, but not unimpressive, almost doubled with a spasm of painful pleasure, Lucio coming and coming and coming inside his body, his kisses growing vicious, then soft again. 

He has to hold him there for a long time, unable to let him go. Julian shifts in such a way as to relieve Lucio of most of his weight - he’s a considerate creature, even half-asleep and well sated - and Lucio allows himself to fall asleep that way - still inside him, blanketed by his heat and his weight and his love.


	10. Just a scrap from Things Go Wrong that I had lying around on the floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I liked it too much to throw away.**

A scrap from the cutting-room floor of Caged/Things Go Wrong:

 

In the next moment their lips meet again, and again, but the way Lucio takes his mouth now is tender, even tentative, the pressure of his mouth light and questing. Julian isn’t entirely sure he’s _ever_ been kissed this way, as if he were something fragile and precious. There’s something almost dreamlike about it. 

Julian nods. He has no strength left to fight the tears that gather in his eyes, brim, and then run over his lids in hot little streams. “I… consent,” he says, quietly. “I consent. To everything. Anything.”


	11. Another Cut Scene/Outtake from Things Go Wrong (not used)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring mirror-based fucking, and declarations of affection. Jucio.
> 
> * * *

An outtake from Caged/Things Go Wrong (not used):

...Lucio pushes him down and forward, hard enough that his forehead strikes the mirror - Julian stays where he is, sprawled on his hands and knees, without having to be told. Behind him, he hears metal dragging over ceramic as Lucio picks up the collar from the side of the tub, hears it jingle in his hand. Another moment and he’s back, pulling Julian up by the hair to slip the collar over his head. He’s re-threaded it, so that now if he pulls on the dangling 0-ring, it’ll pull tight and hard across Julian’s throat. Julian’s heart races with excitement. 

“Hands and knees,” Lucio orders, and Julian scrambles to obey. “Look at yourself,” he says, “In the mirror.” 

and Julian looks up, into his own eyes, in the mirror. 

Behind him, Lucio does something with a bottle of bath oils - probably not being used for its intended purpose - and Julian hears him slicking his cock with it, stroking it, and feels a deep need to have Lucio inside of him. He drops his head, presenting his ass, whining softly - a plea.

Lucio hooks two fingers beneath his collar - not in the choking ring - and yanks his head back up. “Hands and knees, I said!” and Julian resumes his position, aching for more. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror.” 

A moment later, looking into his own eyes (and not liking it much) he feels Lucio behind him. Lucio spreads Julian’s knees further, and lifts his hips. He feels Lucio’s hand on the flat of his back - which is oddly soothing - then Lucio spreads him open, and he feels Lucio’s slick cockhead against his entrance. He’s doesn’t penetrate him, just holds him open and lets the thick head of his cock nudge him, takes him in his fist to rub himself against him, but refuses to thrust his hips enough to give him what he needs. Julian begins to breathe harder, then to whines softly, and finally to beg, wondering if this was the goal all along. 

“Please?” he begs. “Lucio. Lucio, please.” He’s practically sobbing with need, rutting back against him. 

Lucio hauls him up by the collar again, this time pulling him back against his body. Lucio’s golden claws grip his jaw and the underside of his chin tilting his head back and holding him that way, while Lucio’s good hand, slick with bath oil, closes in a tight fist around his cock, and Julian arches back into him with his whole body. 

“Lucio!”

Lucio doesn’t answer, just strokes him while he sucks and bites his neck. He doesn’t tell him not to come, and Julian feels himself getting close. His whole body aches to come this way, held in Lucio’s arms, “C-can I?” he stammers, looking at Lucio’s eyes in the mirror. Lucio’s eyes are silver and haunted, and Julian loves the way he looks at him, dark and focused as if he’s the only thing that matters in the world. He turns to look at him directly, and Lucio turns his face back toward the mirror. 

“Watch us in the mirror when you come,” he directs, and Julian tries to. Lucio in the mirror is like a mad god, his eyes shining like moonlight, his body tight and perfect. Julian thinks again about how he doesn’t deserve his attention, how lucky he is t have it. He doesn’t like himself in the mirror, he looks dazed and exhausted and bloody… 

“You’re beautiful,” Lucio whispers, as if he knows what he’s thinking. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And Lucio pulls on the choke-line of the collar, cutting off his air. He feels Lucio’s mouth, his teeth dragging against his earlobe, then slowly biting down as his vision starts to swim… then he can breathe again, and Lucio is kissing his mouth before he can draw a full breath of air, thrusting his tongue hard into his mouth as if he hopes to gag him on it. Julian moans with the depraved pleasure of it all, his body singing with pain and sensation - Lucio is so good to him.

Then there’s a sudden, sharp pain, as Lucio’s claws bite into his chest, dragging blood lines down his pain skin - he feels them digging in deeper, the pain swelling exquisitely. Oh, it’s so good…! Then Lucio bites him, sinking his blunt, human teeth into the place between Julian’s neck and shoulder, bearing down to break the skin, then sucking hard, as if to raise a blister or drink his blood, and Julian comes enormously, crying out Lucio’s name, held safely in the strength of his arms. 

Afterward, there’s a few moments of peace and safety, of being held, Lucio quietly licking julian’s blood from his claws while Julian recovers. When he grinds his still-hard cock between Julian’s ass cheeks, Julian bursts into tears. Without hesitation Lucio turns him to face him, pulls him close as he weeps, smearing Lucio with his tears and blood and cum for the second or third time in 24 hours. 

He wants something other than this, he knows. He knows Lucio has barely begun to play with him, that he should be a better plaything. He wants to take Lucio’s cock in his mouth and throat, wants to scream for him, wants to feel him deep inside, enjoying Julian’s body, using it for his own pleasure. But instead he cries, endlessly, all the hurt and uncertainty of the last day welling up inside him and flooding out. He feels guilty, too, hugely, but Lucio only holds him, keeping his arms tight around him when he flails, kissing his face and his hair, keeping him safe. 

When he’s finally emptied out of tears (at least for the moment), he breathes, “I’m… sorry, Lucio.” But Lucio only brushes his hair back from his eyes, looking into his face with a tenderness that takes his breath away. He kisses him then, slow and sweet, and Julian imagines he can taste his tears in Lucio’s mouth. 

All Lucio says is, “Can you walk, do you think? I’d rather not sleep in here, if it’s all the same to you.” Lucio helps him to his feet, and together they navigate the baths and then the chambers inside them, until finally, they can both fall into Lucio’s bed. Lucio rings a bell and makes some poor servant dim all the lamps, and bring them a pitcher of water, a bottle of wine, towels. The poor servant does what they can not to look at their nakedness, or Julian’s bloody chest still streaked with cum, his neck and upper chest a mass of bruises and bitemarks. Lucio seems proud, though, of his handiwork, running his finger of Julian’s injuries. 

“Do you think you can tolerate a little more use, if I’m gentle with you?”

It’s something Lucio has never asked for before. Ordinarily he simply takes what he wants if he judges Julian still capable of taking it, or if not then he cares for him and lets him recover. This, this strange space between the two, is new and tender, if confusing. 

“Yes,” Julian says, emphatically. Lucio looks at him for a while, measuring him. 

“Normally, I can contain my appetites when you’ve been so roughly used, or sate them elsewhere if not. But I find… for some reason I find that I desperately need to be inside you, my love. I’ll be careful with you - I can feel how fragile you are right now, and I’d hate to damage my favorite toy. But if you can, then… I need you.”

“Yes,” Julian breathes, as delighted as he is exhausted. “Have me… I belong to you. Tell me what to do, and you can have me however you like.”

Lucio pulls him into his arms and kisses his mouth, slow and tender. “Don’t do anything… I’ve told you I’ll be gentle with you. Just let me… “

And Lucio is throwing a leg over his hip and sliding on top of him, Julian loves his weight against his body, and even more than that he loves his kisses, so slow and careful, gradually becoming harder and more needy, Lucio’s cock throbbing against his thigh. Lucio sucks at his bruises as he eases his fingers inside him, working the oil slowly into him… Julian ruts against his fingers, too sensitive, too submissive, to stop himself, but Lucio is the one who pants with need, which is thrilling.

Lucio eases into him, as careful as he’s promised to be, but Julian is suddenly desperate to be fucked hard. He begs until Lucio relents, obviously not fully trusting him, but so deliciously needy for him that he’s willing to overlook it. Julian thinks that one of his sweetest memories will always be this, with Lucio fucking in and out of him, his face a picture of restraint as he struggles to maintain the tension between fucking him as hard as he needs to and not hurting him, moaning _Oh, Ilya! Oh, my love!_ until he loses control of himself, rutting frantically, and comes deep inside him with a cry of triumph or despair, burying his face in his neck. 

“You,” he pants into him. “You…” and doesn’t finish the thought. Or maybe that was all the thought he had.

For a long time, he doesn’t move, or seem to want to. Then he pulls out of him, making a mess, and turns onto his back with a groan of satisfaction. 

“I’m not nearly as sated as I wanted to be, “ Lucio yawns. “When we wake up, I’m going to need to have you many more times before I’m satisfied. You are… intoxicating, darling.”

They doze, or are silent, it’s hard to tell which, for a long while. Eventually, Lucio says in his ear, “I wouldn’t have left you, you know. Not at the party or anywhere else, not for anything. And I won’t let you escape out into the world whenever you lose your mind and think that I want rid of you. I never shall.” And Julian curves in against him, clinging to him. 

Another time, when they should be be sleeping, Lucio rouses him again. 

“Would you like a permanent collar?” he asks. 

“A..” Jualin is barely awake. 

“A permanent collar. I believe I could have you measured for one in teh moring. It’s early for one, i was going to offer it to you at festival, but if it will put your mind at ease…” 

Julian turns to him, opening his eyes, finding himself suddenly much more awake. “Do you… mean it? You really want to give me a collar?” 

“If you want one, darling.” 

Is he dreaming this? “You really want to make me yours? It isn’t a… a joke, or something else?”

“Darling,” Lucio murmurs, remonstrative. But Julian presses the subject. 

“Don’t… don’t tease me, please Lucio. I want it too much. It’ll hurt too much if you don’t mean it.” 

“Have you ever known me to say things I don’t mean? Julian.” He strokes his cheek, touching their foreheads together. “I want you,” he says, quiet and serious. “The idea of comforting you, even, is a ruse. I want you to wear my name at your throat, and I want everyone who sees you to know that you belong to me, and I want you in my bed each night, I want to wake up to you in the morning. I don’t want you escaping in a fit of pique. I feel so at peace when we’re together. I think of you when we’re away. You make me so weak, you’re like a sickness. Please. Let me give you a collar.” 

Julian, who at first can only nod, clings to him as one who suddenly finds himself in deep, unexplored waters might cling to a lifeline. He says, "Yes."


	12. Can I? (Julian x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Julian x Reader smut - public sex.**

It’s an ordinary evening at the Rowdy Raven. You’re there with Julian - just the two of you for once, instead of the two of you along with your entire extended friend group, or the two of you along with the large, animated crowd Julian tends to attract - (after all this time, you still have no idea how he knows some of those people.) There’s a band playing, someone local. It’s rowdy but not *too* rowdy. You’ve had a few drinks, you’ve played some darts, and obviously it’s now time to move on to the making-out portion of the evening. This is, maybe, your favorite part of the day. Without question it’s Julian’s. 

For a while, you just do the things that won’t get you kicked out of the Raven kissing, holding hands, stroking hands, hands moving under various layers of clothing while you look around yourselves and giggle, the thrill of being in public all part of the game - eventually you’re, sitting on his lap while you share long, hungry kisses, his hands sliding covertly (ok, not so covertly) up the back of your skirt. You kiss endlessly, with every variation of lips and teeth and sliding tongues and half-swallowed moans. For all his lack of subtlety, the boy *knows* how to tease: this means that even though you’re mercilessly grinding against him to make him suffer, as soon as his educated fingertips begin to move against the edges of your underthings, just barely brushing the places you most want him to touch, but his caresses are hot and urgent on your inner thigh, you know you’re at a disadvantage. 

Soon, your gasps and sighs are harder to control-- you won’t come like this (probably, anyway), but you _can_ be driven half out of your mind, and at first, you think this is what he wants. But when he pulls away, eyes shining with drink but also with lust, face flushed, and a certain, slightly unfocused, soft and needy quality to him… you understand what’s happened. Somehow, while he was teasing you and trying to take a modicum of control, he’s circled all the way back around to his normal submissive self, and his intense state of arousal (not to mention being slightly drunk) has intensified it. He’s in a bad state. 

Concerned, you touch cheek with one palm. “ _Ilya,_ ” you say, both remonstrating and comforting. “I think we should go, love.” But he looks at you with a particularly heartbreaking brand of desperation - you know what he’s going to ask for before he says it.

“No,” he breathes, “I mean. ...Can I? I want--” He doesn’t say it out loud, just looking at you, soft and needy. 

Your eyes widen, although you can’t stop yourself from smiling foolishly. “Illya, _no!_ We’re in _public_.” 

He whines. “But I *want* it!”

“We’ll get thrown out again!”

“No, I’ll be really quiet this time! Please, I’ll be so good, we’re in the back…” his voice is higher than it should be, begging, needy. “Oh _please,_ MC? Let me get on my knees.” 

You bite your lip. It’s your bad fortune that you’re a little drunk too, and so stupid-horny that it’s hard to think straight. Why is he so goddamn sexy? The fact of him is completely unfair. “Maybe, outside…” 

“It’s cold outside,” he whinges. “I wanna stay in here. I’ll be careful. No one will know.” He eases a hand between your thighs, cupping you between your legs. Gods, his hand is so *warm!* 

“I don’t know…”

He leans in, again, kissing his way down your throat and then sucking at your neck, and you groan. 

“ _Pleaaase?_ ” He presses against you, lightly, with his big warm hand. Your resolve falls to the ground, murdered by five salty bitters and more than an hour of making out. 

“Well…” 

His eyes light up. “I’ll be _so_ sneaky! I’m going to be so *good* to you, mc, I know just what you like…” 

You suck your lower lip between your teeth. This is such a terrible idea. 

“...Okay,” you say, guilty and aching. Ilya kisses your mouth with a sweet eagerness that makes you weak, if you weren’t already, and gently eases you from his lap, so that he can crawl under the table, kneeling between your thighs. 

...the two of you are kicked out (again) about five minutes after that.


	13. Just a Game (hurt with no comfort)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Asra x Julian, smut, angst. (WARNINGS: Cruelty, possible abuse in the context of BDSM, emotional cruelty, and Mean Asra/OOC Asra. Allusions to Apprentice's death. This one's a little rough, folks.)**
> 
> * * *

“Asra. Please, I just need to rest. For a, uh, a moment?”

The magician’s response is a cool silence. His answer, when it comes, seems soft and mild, “So you’re saying you want to stop?” 

Julian, half-dressed, is contorted in a complicated yoga-esque pose of Asra’s devising that requires one leg to be bent and one outstretched behind him, while he flattens both palms on the ground, arching his back at a severe angle, leaving his bare chest and stomach unprotected. It’s a difficult position, and he’s been in and out of it for nearly an hour, only being allowed small breaks when he collapses or begins to tremble so hard that it ruins the aesthetic. He hurts all over, but disappointing Asra hurts even more. Just maintaining it, imperfectly now, takes most of his strength and he’s gradually wilting. Trying not to breathe too raggedly, or tremble too much, he peers up at Asra warily, his thick red hair falling across his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. 

He tenses, though, just before the thin switch lands with a crack across chest, where he already wears several angry red stripes. “I asked you a question, Ilya!” Asra’s voice is barely raised at all, he sounds like he’s scolding a student who’s guilty of some minor infraction, rather than disciplining a captive doctor who isn’t sure what he did wrong. “I’m sorry!” Julian gasps, choking on it, but Asra’s hand slides into his hair and pulls, dragging his already aching neck backward even further. Julian can’t help it; he cries out, which earns him another lash, this one falling with a cruel precision across one of pink nipple, which immediately swells red, burning. He keeps his grunt of pain behind his clenched teeth this time, if just barely. It isn’t silent, but he’s doing his best.  
*  
This one doesn’t warrant a punishment, so he must be doing the right thing. Is he? Is he doing a good job, finally? Is he finally being what Asra wants? He yearns for that, more than anything. More than he wants to stop, more than he wants to fuck, even. He wants the magician to caress him and tell him that he’s done well, that all is forgiven.

Asra’s brings his mouth close to Julian’s ear. His breath feels warm and ticklish, damp. “Are you capable of answering a simple question, Ilya? I’ve known for a while now that you’re very stupid, but you’re not THAT stupid, are you? You disappoint me.” He gives him a hard little shake and releases him. Julian wishes he would touch him again, even if it was to hurt him. Hurting, he thinks, would be fine. Even being hit is okay. He’s gotten used to it, since Asra introduced him to this particular brand of eroticism. It’s better than nothing, anything is better than nothing, and his skin aches for contact. It’s okay if Asra hurts him. Asra wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t also care for him. But the other man doesn’t touch him, he simply stands out of reach. 

Julian pants, “I’m sorry, Master,” which is something he’s heard many of Asra’s students call him. Asra’s response, though, is immediate and vicious. Julian gets his wish for physical contact as the smaller man takes him by the throat, his grip painfully tight, and pulls him to one side, breaking his pose, throwing him on the floor.  
*  
“Don’t you EVER call me that!” he shouts, truly angry now, his pretense at composure forgotten. Julian remembers, too late, that it’s what _they_ called him… Asra’s apprentice. The one neither one of them can bear to think of, now. But Asra is still shouting at him, his face a mask of hate. “I will NEVER be that to you, Ilya! Do you understand me? I will never be your teacher, and I will never be your master in any way! I wouldn’t even agree to own you if you were an ANIMAL, you aren’t even worth what an oxen is! And any cart ox ready for the glue factory would probably be smarter than you! Better at following directions, too. You can’t get anything right. You disgust me,” he spits.

Julian, who hasn’t been in his right mind since much earlier in the evening, when they began their games, folds his knees up against his chest and covers his head, frightened. In some dim part of his mind, he knows he must look ridiculous - he’s not a small man, he’d be easily able to best the magician in a fight - well, unless there were magic involved - but here he is, half-naked on the floor in front of him, trying to make himself smaller. As if that would help! Asra’s right… Julian isn’t worth anything. He can’t even do _this_ right.  
*  
“Get UP, Ilya.” The calmer tone is back, but there’s still an edge to his voice. Julian attempts, shakily, to get to his feet.

“No. Hands and knees.”

Julian obeys. It’s difficult to manage even that much, because he’s trembling so hard. It must be the muscle exhaustion, because this is just a game. It’s just a game, between the two of them. Asra cares for him, he does. It’s a game. 

"...Get out. “

The words, when they penetrate, are like a slap in the face. In fact he'd prefer a slap in the face - by far. He glances out the window, to see that yes, it’s dark outside. He doesn't mean it. Not really? Not when Julian is.. Like this? Asra picks up Julian’s shirt, his boots, and throws them at him. 

“You heard me. I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

A desperate horror of being abandoned, of being alone in the dark in his current state, washes over him like cold water. He clutches his things, sitting up on his knees (Like a good boy he hears, distantly in his mind.) Only a few nights ago Asra had praised him, for looking so well in this position. Julian wishes he’d praise him now. Or… anything. He wishes he’d switch him all night long, string him upside down on the doorway again, make him hold poses until his muscles ache and burn, until his bones creak. Just not this. Not this! Just don’t make him leave, don’t leave him alone, out in the unsafe dark. He can’t. He isn’t ready.  
*  
Julian wets his parched lips, swallows hard, a dry click in a dry throat, looking a plea at the magician. “Please,” he moans. “Please. I’ll be good. I’ll do better.”

Asra turns his back to him, looking out at the night. Julian feels tears of humiliation sting his eyes, gather, and run down his cheeks. He doesn’t dare move to wipe them away, instead rearranging himself into a position he knows Asra likes: thighs slightly spread, toes tucked under, butt on heels, and his hands on his thighs, palm up and helpless, neck arched just enough to show complete submission. He swallows hard and waits. He doesn’t close his eyes though, because if Asra is going to strike him he wants to see it coming. The silence is long and excruciating.

Finally, the magician looks at him again. There is no love in his face, but no anger either, not really. All that Julian can read is disdain. It’s understandable, though. Because Julian isn’t worth anything. Not even as much as a beast? Not evven that. He knows this, he’s always known it. “It is late,” Asra says, finally. His voice is gentle, resigned. Julian seeks his eyes, his tears running freely down his face. HIs nose is beginning to run as well, but he doesn’t move. Won’t move. In this, at least, Julian can try to be a good boy. To please him even a little. 

Asra run a hand through his own hair, evaluating him. He’s tired too, Julian can see it on his face. They’ve been playing this way for hours, and although most of the effort has been his, Asra hasn’t exactly been sedentary. On nights like these, nights when he can’t stop thinking about...them, their play becomes very active indeed. Julian doesn’t mind: he doesn’t mind any of it. He's willing, glad, to be the thing that Asra uses to help them both forget. Except that he’s not good enough for Asra, definitely not good enough to make him forget his pain that is their shared pain, and now not even to take out his frustration on. He’s lucky that Asra bothers with him at all. Julian is so lucky. He doesn’t deserve anything more than this.  
*  
Finally, the magician reaches a decision. “You can stay,” he says, turning his back on Julian. Julian’s heart leaps with gratitude, the tears which had almost run out renewing themselves. “You can sleep on the floor,” he allows, pointing vaguely to the bare floor near the bed. “Don’t wake me up.” 

Julian nods quickly, not wanting to make him angry again. “Yes, Asra,” he says, demurely, “Thank you.” 

The magician undresses quickly, paying no mind to the doctor’s ravenous glances at his naked body, smooth and golden in the lantern light. His gaze lights on Julian briefly, as he pulls back the blankets, and Julian sees with a shock that he’s crying as well. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it. 

But something about the shift, or maybe even Julian’s careful obedience although he knew he was about to be thrown out, softens something in his face. His beautiful violet eyes meet julian’s with something like pity. Julian’s soul hurts for more of his attention, but he keeps quiet, eyes lowered. There’s an unnamable hurt moving swift and dark behind his the magician’s eyes, an unknowable ocean.  
*  
“You can, uh,” Asra says, thickly. “You can sleep up here. It’s cold on the floor.” 

Julian’s eyes widen. Are you sure he wants to ask, but knows better. “Thank you Asra,” he murmurs again, lowering his eyes with uncertainty. 

Asra nods, turning to trim the lamp before he blows it out. “Get in bed, Ilya,” he mutters, with a voice like wheels over gravel. “And don’t touch me.” 

It’s hard to sleep, between his aching heart and his aching body. Asra’s words (You can’t get anything right. You disgust me!) play on repeat in his mind. Asra is right, though. Too, the desire that Asra had brought out in him, teasing him for what must have been hours, aches for release… but he isn’t even hard now, which is at least a mercy. He feels his skin yearning for attention, his heart aching for comfort... but he knows he doesn’t deserve these things. He’s grateful that he isn’t outside, cold and confused and vulnerable, trying to gather himself enough to make it home through the dark streets, instead of becoming prey for whatever might be walking them. This is Julian’s fault. He’ll try harder, next time. He’ll do better. Next time, Julian will be a good boy.


	14. Nightmares (Julian x Lucio, hurt/comfort, small angst, fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Julian x Lucio, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), fluff, angst. In this one, Lucio has had enough of Julian waking him up at night, and decides to solve the problem by accidentally giving him everything he's ever wanted.**
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> **I think this was a predecesor to Night Terrors. It doesn't quite fit in that story as it is, but I still liked it too much to throw it away. It's sweet and fluffy and hurts a little. I can't get enough of Julian "I don't deserve love" Devorak, and the way Lucio handles him.**

For Julian, being moved into the servants’ rooms attached to Lucio’s seemed like the perfect gig - and it was, at first. But when he disturbs Count Lucio’s sleep for the third time, screaming during his nightmares, Lucio decides to take matters into his own hands - well, *hand,* anyway. It’s for this reason that Julian wakes to the startling presence of Lucio in Julian’s own bed, stroking his hair and soothing him, telling him with his genteel words to, essentially, shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Shockingly, turns out to be extremely effective method of nightmare prevention and treatment. Apparently the only reason Julian that didn’t know before now is that no one’s ever tried it before. 

This continues to happen, and after a bit of experimenting Count Lucio seems to decide that the best approach is simply to hold him. Pulling him in tightly, he’ll stroke his hair and caress him until he’s calm again. It works wonders, to be honest. 

Julian, shamefully, finds that the doesn’t actually mind. He knows he should: it’s a terrible invasion of privacy and more than a little humiliating. But, well… he _enjoys_ being touched, far more than he’d like to admit. And it’s so rare, these days, that anyone touches him with such gentleness. Lucio, too is kind to him, in his way: he never strikes him, he never speaks cruelly to him, and he never even uses this new intimacy as an excuse to demand more. (To be honest, Julian doesn’t think he’d mind that. It's impossible, sleeping next to his boss, being comforted by his easy touch, that he'd fail to notice how attractive he is. Or that having noticed, he wouldn't speculate on what it might feel like to be lavished with such generous attention but on all the parts of his body.) 

The day comes, though, when Lucio tells him curtly, “Although my detective skills are excellent, it’s tiresome for me to be forever trying to deduce whether I’ll be shouted awake in the middle of the night. From now on, you’ll tell me ahead of time if you know you’re going to have a bad night, and on those nights you’ll sleep in my bed. Easier on both of us.” This is not something that is offered as a subject for discussion or debate. Julian does as he’s told. 

It’s embarrassing, though, and that can't seemed to be helped. He’s ashamed, always, to say, “Count Lucio - I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I think that this may be a difficult night,” while blushing to the roots of his hair. Lucio always nods wisely, unperturbed, and always says the same thing:, “Then you’ll sleep here tonight, Doctor.” 

Julian wonders, often, how much he knows. If he knows, for example, that sometimes Julian is not entirely honest. He’s not entirely _lying,_ either: a night when he's so achingly lonely that his very skin seems to hurt with the need for contact IS a difficult night! On those nights his heart sits like a stone in his chest, and the only thing he knows of that can numb the pain is found at the bottom of a bottle. 

Well, it used to be the only thing. But lately he's come to find that lying in the warm circle of Lucio's arms brings him so much relief that sometimes he doesn't even crave a drink: instead he longs for nighttime to come, waiting for the moment when Lucio will say to him, in his straightforward way, "Come to bed, doctor. The hour is late and you'll disturb me if you are awake much longer." Or something like that. Then Julian will leave to put on nightclothes, and come back to slide between the silk sheets of Lucio's too-big, too fancy bed, feeling always a little awkward. Lucio often has to prod him then, saying "Well?" so that Julian will move into his arms. The Count will grumble at him when he does this, complaining that he's more difficult than even Lucio's hounds are, that he should really be used to it by now and stop jumping at shadows, and that if Lucio wanted to defile him in his sleep he's had ample oppurtunity to do it before now... and all the while Lucio's hands slide up and down his back, or his fingers stroke his hair and massage his scalp. Julian holds very still, and tries to keep from groaning with pleasure, and all is right with the world. 

_Could_ Lucio have had have any idea what he was doing, when he gave Julian a free pass to ask to be taken into Lucio’s bed whenever he wants? This seems unlikely: Lucio doesn’t seem like the type to play such games. And if he were, wouldn't he have asked for more, by now? Doesn't he know that Julian would give him almost anything he wanted? Probably, he just wants to sleep without disturbance - it's no more complex than that.

At first Julian promises himself that he won’t abuse this kindness (much). But as time goes by, he finds that he wants it more and more often. He doesn’t mean to, but he can't _help_ it! It’s just so _good_. Julian doesn’t even have to risk rejection: Count Lucio insists, stating it is the only way to drive away his nightmares. But on more and more nights nights when Julian knows there probably won’t be any nightmares, he lets himself be held anyway. The doctor knows, in his heart, that he doesn’t deserve this kind of tenderness and care: he knows what he’s worth. But he craves it, fiercely, all the same. 

Julian wonders, sometimes, if this is how it would feel to be loved, but for something other than his body and the pleasures it can provide. As long as he’s had lovers, he’s known that his value is in his prettiness, how sweetly he can flirt to make someone's heart race, how readily he surrenders himself, utterly, to the desires of the other. He doesn’t mind this, in fact most of the time he absolutely adores being treated this way. But the part that afterward, when their games are over and he finds himself discarded (again)… that’s the part he dislikes. 

In fact, it’s mostly this, this fear of being abandoned once his usefulness has passed, that prevents him from attempting to seduce Count Lucio while he's already conveniently in his bed. As time goes on he _wants_ to, and with increasing urgency. Lucio, for all the things they say about him, is kind to Julian, who isn’t afraid of him (much). He's intelligent and sharp-witted, and he doesn't seem to fear anything at all. And of course, there's no denying that he’s _gorgeous_ , which is easy to see once you get past the fear of him murdering you. Under other circumstances he'd already have tried to charm his way into the Count's, erm, affections, he's certain. But as it is, it feels like too much of a risk. He already has so much, he shouldn't be greedy. Besides, if the Count wanted him, wouldn't he know by now? 

Sometimes he counts back the days until he’s sure it’s been long enough - can he ask again? Has it been long enough? On particularly bad days, he’ll find himself thinking with yearning of the encompassing heat of Lucio’s embrace, the comfort and safety of being held in his arms. He’ll think about maybe if the world were different, he could stay in Lucio’s arms _every_ night. Maybe, if the world were different, he could stay forever.

This, of course, is foolish. A silly fantasy for a silly man: someone like Lucio doesn't want someone like him, why would he? He doesn’t even have a word for what he wants from him, it feels bigger than the crushes he has almost constantly, deeper than the bright but short-lived flare of lust that he's used to. 

If the world were different, Maybe Lucio would look at him the way others have, and would want him. And maybe this time would be different, maybe Lucio wouldn’t hurt him (Well. Not in ways he doesn’t want, anyhow. Julian wants his body to be hurt, flooding him with delicious endorphins... not his feelings. Not his heart.). He daydreams that Lucio wouldn’t ask him to leave when their fun was over, or make him feel small and unwanted. That they could be almost like they are now - almost like friends, talking about medical breakthroughs and information like equals, sharing small jokes… but with something else between them, too. He’d very much like to feel Lucio’s hands on him in even more places, and to be allowed to touch him with his hands and his mouth, to work to please him with his body. For the record, it’s a body that he’s often complimented on, and he’s sure that if he was only given a chance, he could be very pleasing indeed, even to a Count... But that’s all foolishness. He’ll take what he can get, and be thankful for it. 

One day, when his requests have come far too close together, Lucio answers only with silence, his gaze sharp and penetrating. Julian feels his face grow hot. He’s on the verge of turning away, apologizing, hiding his embarrassment, when Lucio says, “Dr. Devorak. You have been having bad nights with increasing frequency, haven’t you?”

At this Julian blushes and stammers, knowing he’s finally been caught out. But the count only says to him, cooly, “Perhaps it would be easier if you were to sleep in here from now on, at least until they abate. Of course, if the nights become easier for you, you are free to move back to your own quarters when you wish. But for now… yes, why don’t you simply spend your nights here?” Seeing Julian’s hesitation, he clasps his arm reassuringly. “Please, I insist. There’s more than enough room!” 

Julian’s head spins. Did he say _every_ night? 

Spend _every night_ with Lucio, safe in his lavish bed, safe in his strong arms? Is he truly inviting him to do this thing, to spend all his nights being held and perhaps even caressed, his nervousness gentled under Lucio’s hands and his kindness, in the way he’s begun to crave more and more? 

...Julian can’t agree fast enough. Count Lucio’s slow, pleased smile seems knowing, but he says nothing more. 

So, that’s what they do. For Julian, especially at first, it’s pure bliss. He spends each night with Lucio, in Lucio’s bed. And while Julian had accepted that perhaps many of these nights would be nothing more than sleepovers, with none of the cuddling he’s come to expect, it seems that Lucio has other ideas. Always, as has been his habit, he pulls Julian into his arms before he falls asleep; perhaps it even comforts him in some way, to have him there. His caresses feel almost natural, as if Lucio has assimilated the fact that Julian-at-night is a thing to be touched and petted, and Julian feels his heart expand under the impossible sweetness of it. He holds very still, always, so that Lucio won’t change his mind, or think him a bother. 

Every time Lucio wraps him in his arms, the always-present weight in the center of his chest seems to lift, a little. Where Lucio touches him, Julian’s very skin seems to glow with happiness. In the way once he dreaded his nights, he now looks forward to them. 

Soon, Julian’s mood and his sleeping habits improve dramatically. He finds himself with more and better energy, smiling more often during the day, hurrying bedtime. He lies awake mornings until Lucio stirs, not wanting to leave his side until he has to. He doesn’t name the feeling and doesn’t trust it... but he hopes, if he doesn’t give it a name, that he won’t have to give it up. 


	15. Infatuation (Lucio x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Lucio x Reader (gender-neutral reader, unless I forgot to fix all the places it wasn't). ...I still want to finish this one, but in the meantime, please enjoy. It's exactly what it says, and it's just a tease - nothing but anticipation, no money shot. Because if there's one thing I love more than writing questionable smut about fictional characters, it's being a tease when writing questionable smut about fictional chracters.**  
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>  **Takes place during the masquerade, either prior the plague in an in AU where the plague never happens. No warnings. Enjoy.**
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Prologue: _“My, my. Desperate for it, aren’t you?” Count Lucio’s expression is difficult to read, but his pale eyes are bright with excitement._

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For a long time you’ve been infatuated with him - this powerful, mysterious man, about whom deranged and titillating things are whispered throughout the servants’ quarters. At first you were merely intrigued, then curious… and then you were assigned to the Count’s wing of the palace. The rest, as they say, is history. 

You hadn’t set out to become fascinated by him - it had just sort of worked out that way. At first, whenever you saw him, your stomach would churn with butterflies, and sometimes your would feel yourself blush. That was only natural - he was easily both the most powerful and most feared man in all of Vesuvia. It was natural he should make you nervous.

Only slowly your nerves and understandable star-struck edginess turned into something else. Your pulse would still leap when you saw him of course, but you began to take note him in new ways: his fine and aristocratic features, the chiseled planes of his proud face; his way of entering a room as if he owned each thing person in it (technically, he sort of did, but still); even his way of speaking, curt and direct and commanding without even needing to raise his voice, the way that sent a little thrill through you. 

Secretly, you wondered what he’d be like in private - would he speak to his lovers gently? Could he be tender? Or was he cold and controlling, even in bed? Your found that your gaze lingered a little too long when you waited on him, or even did other chores in the room he occupied. When you heard his voice from another room, sometimes your breath would catch - and you’d find an excuse to be near him, if you could. You’d take the jobs that no one else wanted, if it meant you might be close to him at some point during the day, that you might hear his voice. You never expected him to take notice of you, a lowly nobody… but still you took a sweet, secret thrill in being in his presence. For a long time, you thought that would be enough.

After today, it won’t be enough ever again. 

It's the masquerade, and everyone is costumed, curious, bubbling with excitement. For you, at least a small part of your own excitement was knowing that Count Lucio _himself_ would be walking among the crowds, masked - and probably easy to spot, as was his way. You knew that you’d at least catch a glimpse of him in his finery, and who knew - maybe you’d even speak to him! Maybe - oh, but this was wishful thinking - maybe you’d even share a dance, pretending not to know him? Not likely, and you had to laugh at the very idea. Oh, but it was a very nice fantasy - perhaps you’d save it for later, along with the others you’d collected over time. 

It isn’t until you’re standing in line for the SkyRide, just about to be buckled into a double-rider setup although you’re just one person, that a low, cultured voice behind you asks, “Room for one more?” That voice is familiar, but your mind must be playing tricks on you. You turn to see who’s so eager that they’d share a car with a stranger… and you know him at once. To say that you could pick your jaw up off the floor is an understatement.

He’s dressed more modestly than you’d have expected (although still outrageously stylish, of course) in a simple patchwork linen costume and gold mask - you recognize him as a Harlequin. His hair sparkles with gold dust, his face is painted, and… he’s _beautiful_. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him. He puts a single finger to his painted lips (don’t tell)… but the bored attendant seems not to notice, barely glancing at you for permission before she clips both of you into the harness, and pushes you out the tall window for a several-minutes journey to the ground. Your stomach drops as the harness dips…. And then you’re flying. Well, you and the Count.

This _should_ feel like a dream comes true, but instead you’re petrified. You face away from him, but you feel his arms (!) wrap around your waist in a familiar manner, pulling you close, then his mouth presses against your ear, close enough that you can hear him against the rush of air past your face: “What, shy? Ohh, and here I thought you’d be more pleased to see me! Especially considering the way you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy for the past few weeks. Or did I somehow misread all the longing looks, the way you blush whenever I walk into a room? It's all quite charming, though,” he purrs, “I’m flattered.” 

His hands are restless against the thin silk that covers your waist, and almost possessive. Well, and why not? This is a man for whom no one has ever been out of reach, and he already knows you want him. 

You look up and over your shoulder - he’s taller than he looks at a distance, when he’s right up next to you - of course, he’s probably wearing heels - and his gorgeous, cruel mouth curves into a self-satisfied smile. “I didn’t think you knew,” you admit, still flustered. 

“A bit hard to miss, wasn’t it? I’d have sought you out sooner, but I’ve been unfortunately too preoccupied with affairs of state to pursue flirtatious servants through the halls of the palace - even very pretty ones like yourself.” He smiles again, this time with a saucy wink, and your heart gives a little stutter in your chest.


	16. His Favorite Part (Julian x Lucio, light smut, heavy feelings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Julian x Lucio, light smut, heavy feelings.**
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> **So, this was something of a precursor to Sublime, and while I don't think it quite fits in that universe, there's something about this version of them that's sweet enough to keep. To me, this version of my favorite disaster bois seems younger, sweeter, than the one I usually write. Or maybe it's just a little off center. Whatever it is, I couldn't put it in Sublime, and I couldn't throw it away. I know it has some flaws, but I hope you like it anyway. <3 **
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The aftercare, always, is his favorite part. Sometimes he deliberately misbehaves just to make the scene more difficult, so that the high of being cared for will be that much sweeter. He wonders, sometimes, if that feeling is how it would feel to be loved - not a few nights at a time, but in a real way. He knows that most of his value is in his pretty face, his outrageous flirting, his complete surrender. He doesn’t mind this, in fact most of the time he absolutely adores being treated that way. But afterward, when he’s served his purpose and is discarded-- that’s the part he dislikes. 

It was partly for this reason - the idea of aftercare - that he ever got involved with Lucio at all. For one thing, he’d been in the middle of a dry spell. For another, he’d heard things about Count Lucio, how vicious and sadistic he was. Probably, those were exaggerations. But if even half of it were true…. Well, he _tingled_ with curiosity, to say the least. And if the Count really WAS a monster, he could only imagine that the time afterward, when he’d treat him kindly for a little while, would be almost euphoric. And if he didn’t care for him afterward? Well, lesson learned, dry spell ended, and he wouldn’t play with him again. It was a perfect plan, when he thought about it. What could possibly go wrong? 

The first time, he finds Lucio to be both more and less than anticipated. He doesn’t use any extravagant toys on him, doesn’t whip him or even tie him up (somewhat to Julian’s disappointment). But he’s viciously controlling, demanding authority over Julian’s every thought and movement. When he displeases him, instead of whipping him he simply increases the emotional tension until Julian begins to cry. It’s strange, hurtful… and it’s a high like he’s never experienced before. As long as Julian surrenders his will completely, he is his darling, his baby, his pet. One step out of line however, and he shows his (metaphorical) teeth. It’s… intoxicating, really, being a dance Julian’s not familiar with. 

And when he takes him… _god_. Julian didn’t expect this kind of finesse from the former mercenary, in truth he expected it to be rough and hard and probably over quickly. On the contrary, Lucio clearly knows what he’s doing, and he handles him the instrument of his body with a remarkable amount of skill … he edges him for what feels like ages, and poor Julian keening with pleasure the entire time, blissed out of his mind. By the time Lucio’s inside him and thrusting in and out of him while he groans with need, Julian’s already seeing stars. When he comes, he literally passes out for a moment, waking up to Lucio’s face above him, slapping his cheeks lightly to wake him. 

“Are you alright?”

Julian tries to find his voice. “I, ah… I”m so sorry, I think I blacked out for a moment.” 

Lucio grins. “Well, it’s my fault really. I probably shouldn’t have gone so hard with you the first time, but you’re just such a delight that it’s hard to resist.” Julian feels himself glowing under the praise.

“I’m glad you did,” he manages, still breathless. Lucio kisses him and hauls him to his feet. 

“Oh… do you want me to go?” he asks, disoriented. 

Lucio looks startled. “Go? You can if you want to, of course. But I thought we’d bathe…? I might have made a bit of a mess of you,” he admits with a sheepish smile. 

“You want me to.. Take a bath? With you? Right now?” 

Lucio nods. “A bath first,” he clarifies, “But I had hoped you’d stay the night with me. We can have breakfast together in the morning?” Julian is surprised to note that he looks uncertain of himself. Has he, Julian, done the wrong thing?

“Oh, I don’t usually…” He begins. Lucio frowns, and Julian rushes to say, “I mean I’d love to! I’d really love to,” and Lucio’s smile renews itself, filling him with relief. Julian isn’t used to this sort of thing, he’s not sure how to behave. 

“Good,” Lucio smiles. With a firm hand at the small of his back, he ushers him through a small door, and into his bathing chamber. 

Lucio’s bath is even more extravagant than Nadia’s, which is saying something. It’s twice as large, rolling with steam carrying a multitude of exotic scents, and is every surface gleaming marble accented with gold. The view is magnificent, but not nearly as interesting as the man himself. With a sigh of relief Lucio submerges himself up to his neck, and Julian does the same. Julian’s eyes slide shut, but he feels Lucio is watching him. 

“Are you alright? Are you hungry? If there’s anything at all that you require...” 

Julian shakes his head quickly - he is, in fact quite hungry, but doesn’t want to seem greedy. “You’ve been a gracious host, my lord,” he murmurs, “And more than generous. Are you certain you want me to stay?” 

“Yes, naturally. Considering what just passed between us, it’d be rather callous for me to expect you to sleep alone… and besides, I enjoy the company,” he admits.

Julian runs his wet hands through his curls. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, Count Lucio - staying the night isn’t really my area.” 

“Then you’ve been playing with the wrong kinds of people,” the Count says curtly, adding, “And for gods’ sake, call me Lucio, at least when we’re alone.” 

“Sorry! Lucio.” Julian amends, scrubbing his wet hands over his face. 

When he opens his eyes again, the Count - Lucio, rather - has moved closer. Lucio bites his lip, reaches toward Julian, but stops short of touching him. “You, ah, you have such pretty hair,” he says. “Can I touch it?” 

He’s asking… permission? Count Lucio, who less than an hour ago had both hands in his hair and his teeth at his throat? For a moment Julian is confused. He’s not used to people asking permission, for one thing - even after a scene is over, they have a tendency to treat him like property, a thing he’s so used to that he takes it for granted. He feels suddenly bashful. 

“Of course,” he says, ducking his head to make it easier to reach.

Lucio’s fingers in his hair are gentle, caressing as he admires him. “Lovely,” he sighs, and Julian feels again an unfamiliar warmth swell in his chest. 

When Lucio pulls away he misses the touch at once; he loves to be touched, although he seldom gets much of it outside of his sexual encounters - and he never, ever gets enough. Nervous, he offers, “You don’t, erm, actually have to stop?” 

Lucio smiles at him. “Here, I have an idea,” he says. He moves away and pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the bath. “Come let me wash it for you.” 

Julian just blinks at him. “You want to wash my hair?”

“Well If you don’t want me to, it’s alright. It’s just that it’s so pretty, and I thought you might enjoy the extra attention, after what I put you through. But if you’d rather not…” 

His eagerness makes him flustered. “No! I mean, yes! I mean, please.” and Lucio looks pleased. 

“Come closer, then. You’re so tall that I have to be up here just to reach you, you great beast. Do you like lemons?” 

Lucio has him duck his head to get his hair wet, then selects a shampoo that smells of lemons and lavender, rubbing it into Julian’s curls with slow, deep strokes. He takes his time working up a lather, too, so that it’s more of a massage than a shampooing, and Julian can’t hold back a groan of pleasure.

“God, you’re good at that,” he moans, eyes half lidded. 

“I’m good at a lot of things. Ready to rinse?” 

After he does, Lucio insists on using conditioner on him. He explains that it’s important for the follicles, an un-scientific idea which Julian is extremely skeptical about ,but he keeps this opinion to himself. With Lucio’s hands in his hair and Lucio’s fancy cosmetics making him smell like a flower garden, he doesn’t care what he wants to rub into him next, as long as it doesn’t have to stop.

Of course it does, eventually. After the second rinse, he turns to thank his host for his kindness, but before he can say anything, Lucio wraps his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist, and kisses him. The kiss is as warm and sweet as the water, and Julian is soft and languid from all the attention. He’s not sure what he could have possibly done to deserve all this, but he’s definitely going to enjoy it while it lasts. His hands find Lucio’s sides and then move to his back, exploring him.

Neither one of them wants to break the kiss, so it goes on and on, interrupted only when Julian groans into Lucio’s mouth in a futile attempt to release some small part of the rising tension in his own body: Oh, he knows he’s entirely too easy, he’s always being told so, but it just feels so _nice_ to be kissed this way. Not to mention that Lucio is _gorgeous_ , even without his makeup or his fine clothes. And he’s treated him so well, making him feel so wanted … Julian can’t help it, by the time they part, he’s half hard already. Lucio’s eyes drop knowingly, and Julian feels ashamed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, abashed. 

Strangely, Lucio doesn’t look disgusted with him. Looking him up and down with undisguised appreciation, he asks, “Want to go again?”

“ _Gods_ yes,” Julian breathes, his own gaze running over Lucio’s beautiful naked body, still glistening with water. Lucio bites his lip, and smiles. 

“Thank goodness,” he says, his gold hand running through Julians damp curls to cradle the back of his skull, “I was going to die of frustration if you said no.” As they kiss, Lucio’s caresses travel down his body until he can take Julian’s needy cock in his good hand. Soon he’s stroking him in time with the movements of his tongue in his mouth, slow and deep, and Julian thinks he might die of ecstasy right there. Lucio didn’t even make him earn it or beg for it. He’s just caressing him while their lips move together, sending ripples of pleasure throughout his entire body, almost as if he deserved to be touched. Except--

“C-careful,” Julian hisses, pulling away. 

“What’s wrong?” He can see that Lucio’s turned on just by treating him this way, his pupils are blown wide and his eyes half-lidded. “Did I hurt you?” 

“N-no,” Julian stammers, “I’m just really, ah, close.”

Lucio grins wolfishly. “Isn’t that the idea, darling? Or do you think you’ll be punished if you come in my hand?” 

Does Lucio _want_ him to come, without permission, without Lucio using him first? Lucio is still studying him, considering. Julian blinks at him, confused. “I thought… that is, I guess I don’t know... “ 

“Hmmm, maybe you’re right. You should come in my mouth instead, I haven’t had a chance to taste you properly yet.”

Julian doesn’t *quite* embarrass himself by coming in his hand at the mere suggestion, but it’s a very near thing. “S-sorry?” is all he can manage.

“What? You have a pretty high libido, don’t you? At a guess, you probably need it even more often than I do, which is already quite a lot.” 

“Erm, maybe? I mean, well… yes.” 

Lucio nods, eyes narrowing in thought. “Right. So do you think you could get hard again, in a relatively short amount of time, if I were to suck you off right here?” 

Julian’s face flushes. “I--yes, I’m sure I could,” he admits. Lucio grins hungrily. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” he asks. Again, he runs his eyes down his long, muscular body “God, but you’re a wonder,” he says, almost matter-of-factly. “Intelligent, beautiful _and_ obedient… what a rare creature you are, Doctor.” Before Julian can react to the praise, he pleads, “Come sit on the edge and and let me suck you - or no, wait! Let’s dry off and do it in bed. I want to take the time to enjoy you, you have _such_ a nice prick,” he enthuses, his voice affectionate, reaches down to tug at it gently. 

“Keep doing that and you won’t need to suck me off,” Julian murmurs. He lets Lucio lead him out by the hand. Without asking, Lucio begins to dry him briskly with a large, soft towel. The friction on his heated skin feels wonderful.

“And so responsive, too,” Lucio goes on, still appraising him. He moves on to his hair, where he’s a little more careful. “Your body is just begging for attention, isn’t it? But you get so shy… How very charming, Doctor.” Letting the towel fall on the floor, he slides a golden arm around his waist in a gesture that feels almost possessive, and draws him close. “You’re just *made* to be ravished, aren’t you?” 

Julian has never before been complimented on these qualities. Instead, words like “needy”, and “timid” and “too easy” and “slut” tend to crop up when this side of him is revealed. Also, the fact that he says _ravished_ and not _fucked_ or _used_ makes something twinge in Julian’s chest. Why is this powerful man being so kind to him? Doesn’t he know that Julian would gladly stay at his feet anyway? 

Lucio’s gaze is on him, _seeing_ him. “Ravished… and controlled, I think,” he says quietly, dragging his fingers down his chest, then looks back up into his eyes. “Ohh, yes,” he sighs, as if Julian’s bewildered gaze has confirmed everything. “You need it, don’t you? Poor thing.” 

When he reaches back up to wrap his claws around his throat, not even squeezing him tightly yet, Julian has to fight the urge to get on his knees. Lucio, notices the change in his demeanor and looks utterly delighted, as if he’s just been given a gift. 

“Yes, that’s it, give in… Oh, you’re _perfect_ ,” he sighs, leaning forward to lick the last of the water from Julian’s lips. Julian opens his mouth obediently, but Lucio doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he wonders aloud, “Why isn’t someone already keeping you on a short leash, hmm?” 

“I-- I’m sure I couldn’t say, my lord,” Julian whispers. Lucio’s hand is in his hair - then it tightens, pulling sharply, and Julian gasps. 

“I told you to call me Lucio,” he hisses between his teeth. His eyes are bright with excitement.

“S-sorry, my… uh, Lucio,” he manages, and Lucio smiles against his mouth. 

“That’s better,” he murmurs against him. “We’ll work on it. For now, I think I’m going to need you in my bed immediately. How long has it been since anyone cared for you properly, Doctor?”

“Erm, that depends on what you mean?” 

Lucio is relentless, kissing along his jaw and drifting toward his neck, as he murmurs,”You don’t even understand what a prize you are, do you? How long has it been since anyone held you all night, caressed you as much as you wanted, hurt you as much as you could stand, and at least tried to satisfy that bottomless appetite of yours?” Lucio tilts his head back so he can suck on his throat, and Julian is pliant in his hands, only moaning a little at the sensation. 

“...That’s a good boy. Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are, and how sweetly you surrender, without hurting you first? A treasure like you isn’t made to be broken and neglected.” 

In a faint voice, Julian wonders, “How could you possibly know about that?” 

“It doesn’t take a mind-reader to see that you tremble every time I touch you, and that you practically flinch if I seem unhappy in the slightest thing. Someone’s been mistreating you... or maybe a succession of people. I think you’d give yourself up to anyone who showed more than a little interest, just because you need to be touched and used so badly. “

Lucio’s mouth ghosts along his collarbone as one hand drops to his hip… Julian shudders as Lucio takes him in hand again, stroking him slowly as his mouth moves over his sensitive skin.

“...You’re also not made to be left out in the rain and abandoned, your body and your soul demand that you be both enjoyed and cared for. You’re made for it, darling. Anything less, and you become this wounded creature I see before me. So when was the last time...Mmm, god you taste divine… that you were properly cared for, hm?” Lucio’s mouth is at his nipple, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, and Julian practically keens with longing.

“Never, I think. Please, Lucio… Please, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back if you don’t stop, it feels so good, I’m sorry, but please… I want to be good for you!” 

Lucio draws back, looking both amused and dismayed. His hair is mussed and his skin flushed, he looks both soft and young. Where is the vicious and sadistic man that everyone fears? “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Don’t hold back.” 

Almost at once he’s on his knees, and before Julian can react to the incongruity, the wrongness, of this man kneeling in front of *him*, Lucio’s aristocratic mouth is taking in Julian’s aching cock. He licks up and down the length of him once, and then takes him in his mouth with a groan of pleasure, swallowing him down until he hits the back of his throat, then looking up at him with his beautiful silver eyes as he begins to move up and down his rigid length, cheeks hollowing as he sucks him, his good hand stroking him as he does. Julian doesn’t know what to do with his hands until Lucio takes one and firmly sets it in his own hair. _You can pull my hair_ his eyes suggest, as he gets back to work - although Julian is much too afraid to do such a thing. 

Julian lasts… not very long at all. Lucio probably doesn’t have to work him over for more than five minutes before he gives a single, strangled cry of warning and explodes in his mouth and down his throat. There’s so _much_... he’d pull away if he could, but Lucio’s golden arm is like a steel manacle around his waist, lucio swallows every drop, and he’s still sucking him as he cums, endlessly, *hurting* with the intensity of it. He doesn’t stop until Julian asks him to, overstimulated and overwhelmed, tears still running from his eyes. 

Even as Lucio pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Julian seems afraid that he’s done something wrong. Still holding him close, he rises and kisses his mouth, hard, pushing the taste of his own cum between his lips. 

“Can you walk, do you think?” 

“I, ah… I think so,” Julian admits, just as his knees buckle. Lucio is able to take enough of his weight to support him to the wall, but he has little hope of carrying him. They wait there until Julian’s head stops spinning, and make it back to Lucio’s lush bed once it does, Julian’s arm slung over Lucio’s shoulder, Lucio holding him about the waist. 

The bed is still an untidy nest, and Julian rolls into it, somehow exhausted. 

“Are you alright?” Lucio is watching him with concerned eyes. 

“I-I’m fine,” Julian stammers, “Thank you so much for--for--”

And with that, he bursts into tears. 

“I-I don’t deserve it,” he’s sobbing, the tears wracking his body. “You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be so kind to me, I’m not worth all this, please, you’ll see…” and Lucio crawls into bed and pulls him into his arms, guides him to hide his face against his chest, stroking his hair and holding him. 

“That’s right, cry, that’s good,” he murmurs. “You’re such a beautiful creature, you’re designed for pleasure… you should be held every night, your body loved and tended to, your heart soothed. Oh, my poor darling,” he sighs, kissing the top of his head once, and then again. “Poor thing.”

They spend the rest of the day, then the night, and most of the rest of the next day in Lucio’s enormous plush bed, leaving it only to eat and bathe. True to his word, Lucio lavishes him with attention, and spoils him with the pain and hard use he’s longed for. Between these bouts of controlled viciousness, he soothes him with a genuine tenderness which, while unfamiliar, feels like something he’s always wanted. Julian can’t remember the last time he was content, so at east so… happy, just to be in his skin. He looks at Lucio with a kind of awed worship in his eyes, a look Lucio seems to take as his due, even as it makes him glow with delight. 

It’s hardly a shock that Lucio decides, immediately and unequivocally, to keep him. Of course, Julian could refuse, but… why? Who in his right mind would refuse such an unexpected gift from heaven?

After that… obviously, things are significantly different for Julian. 

For whatever reason, Lucio seems absolutely enchanted by him. Julian maintains that he doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t possibly bring himself to refuse his caresses and kind words - no one’s every adored Julian before, not really, only during the aftercare part. With this miraculous thing available to him virtually whenever he wants it, there seems to be no limit to how much love and affection he can absorb. 

Likewise, there are very few limits to the violence and harsh use and domination he can take, will ask to be brutalized with, will even _beg_ for. This heady combination, dark as it is, together with the doctor’s vulnerable beauty, seems to drive the sadistic Lucio slightly out of his mind with desire. It may be that, like the doctor, he’s never actually met his match in appetite. For these reasons and more, Julian Devorak’s nights are filled with viciousness and love, tenderness and cruelty: he’s never been so happy in his entire life and he would do anything, _anything_ to please the Count.


	17. Let me care for you. (Julian x Lucio, hurt/comfort)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Jucio hurt/comfort, mostly comfort. Lucio is tired of watching his personal physician suffer in the aftermath of whatever it is that Asra does for him. Just this once, he wants to tend to him instead of turning a blind eye. (No smut, sorry!)**
> 
> ****

“I can almost feel it coming off you in waves,” Lucio says quietly, “the neediness, that hunger to be touched. That man is careless with his toys. I don’t know what he does to you, but he’s wrong to send you away afterward, when you’re like this. You should be looked after, your injuries dressed and cared for, told that you’ve done well. If you were mine, I’d never treat you in such a cavalier manner, like some cheap object to be used and discarded. Some men are such objects, of course - but not you. It’s a pity, really, what you let him do to you.”

Julian laughs, bitterly - it’s a broken sound that wounds Lucio’s heart in some strange way. “You wouldn’t want a broken thing like me, Lucio. I don’t really deserve any better than what I get.”

Lucio’s hand is quick - just a flash of movement and then it strikes him, the back of his good hand landing with a crack against the doctor’s cheek, and Julian’s eyes go wide with shock and hurt. He touches his cheek, where the imprint of Lucio’s palm is already showing up in a warm pink. He opens his mouth to say something… but gasps like a fish, unable to speak. Chest heaving, he puts his face in his hands and begins to cry.

Lucio takes him by the wrist, one arm at his waist to steady him, and makes him sit on the bed. Taking his face in his hands, he forces the doctor to look up at him. “Don’t ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you understand me, Doctor?” 

Julian nods, the sobs continuing to wrack him even as Lucio holds him in place, all of his held-in pain leaving through his eyes. Lucio brushes away what tears he can, then guides the doctor to bury his face against Lucio’s chest, clinging to his waist as he seems to cry out his very soul.

When the sobs abate (and after Julian’s dried both his eyes and his nose on a blanket that Lucio will leave for the servants to wash). Lucio breathes into his ear: “You say I wouldn’t want a thing like you - and yet I do. Just let me care for you tonight - I can see he’s left you to suffer, you’re in a terrible state. You won’t owe me anything for this, I want to do it so my heart won’t ache so much while I’m trying to tonight. Yes?”

_Yes._

Throughout that long evening, Count Lucio dresses his wounds, makes him eat, leads him by the hand to his own baths and washes him tenderly in the perfumed water. The doctor’s vulnerability stirs old, deep cravings in Lucio, but he resists them. 

When he puts him into bed, Julian asks in a still-confused tone: “Don’t you want to...have me?” His expression is soft and submissive, and he pulls at his shirt as if ready to undress for him. Lust burns through Lucio like a physical pain - god, he DOES want him, and so much - but he shakes his head, taking his hands to stop him. No matter what he says, it’s not right to take him in his state, it would be like taking advantage of a deeply intoxicated man. Lucio may be a monster, true enough, but he prefers that his conquests be a matter of desperate desire on the part of the other - he likes them to beg for it, actually - and not merely confused acquiescence born from pain.

But the doctor is still confused by his resistance, and seems a little frightened that he’s failed to be pleasing enough. In the end he takes him into his own bed, holding him in his arms and caressing him to assuage his fears, until they both fall asleep.

In the morning, Julian is gone.


	18. A lot of work / Broken (Jucio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (No money shot here folks, just the fluffy bits. Sorry! ;) )

Lucio touches his face, looks into his eyes, searching for telltale signs of weariness, and finding them. 

“Why don’t you stay here? You can rest.”

Julian bites his lip, tempted. “But, I’m wanted at the medical facilities for the evening shift--”

“You’re not, if I say you’re not. I’m sure by now they’re very well used to me pulling you from your duties in order to be my personal plaything, but if it relieves your mind I’ll send word with my man that you’re wanted elsewhere by Count Lucio. What’s one more day, hm?”

“It would be nice to recoup for a little longer, I’ll admit - “ he rolls his shoulders, and grimaces. Count Lucio sets his hands on his waist and looks up at him.

“Stay, then. Let me have you cared for, rest for one more night before you return to the world. Besides,” he says, tugging Julian down to meet him, kissing his mouth, “I’d very much like to find you waiting in my bed when I return.” 

Julian gives a sharp intake of breath -- and Count Lucio grins. “This time I’ll be gentler,” he promises. 

“No need. Use me however you like,” the doctor sighs against his mouth.

**   
“Why don’t you stay another night?” Count Lucio asks the following day, cupping the doctor’s cheek in his hand. Devorak looks surprised, but not unhappy. 

“Of course I will if you wish, Lucio.”

“I do. Stay tonight.” He stretches up to kiss his mouth. “And perhaps tomorrow.” 

Julian is looking at him with surprise. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, why not? You have to sleep somewhere. I like the feel of you in my arms, I sleep better. And not just after I’ve worn you out with our games.”

Julian feigns bewilderment. “Ohh? I thought you meant you’d like the chance to wear me out much more often! Have my charms grown tiresome, Count Lucio?”

“Yes, exactly. I want you in my bed because you’ve become boring and I hope it will help me sleep.”

“Well, I’ll serve in whatever way I can, of course!” Julian agrees. in a quieter voice, he adds, “If you’re sure. Do you really sleep better?”

Lucio bites his lip, a thing he almost never does. “Well, if you don’t want to--” he begins… But before he can take it back Julian catches both his hands, kissing his knuckles, the backs of his hands, his wrists. Lucio is reminded, vaguely, of being licked by an overeager puppy. 

“ _Want to?_ Are you joking? I’d give _anything._ I’d love to spend any of your nights with you, Count Lucio. I just thought… I thought you wouldn’t want me, um... That often? I know I can be… a handful,” he murmurs, blushing. And Lucio understands, finally, that Julian isn’t trying to find a diplomatic way to refuse - he’s _shy_. Uncertain of himself. Lucio frowns.

In the next moment Lucio’s tugging him down for an eager kiss with one hand in his hair, just kissing him and kissing him without pause, relentless. A whimper rises in the doctor’s throat as Lucio lavishes him with affection, and Lucio wonders privately at his response. How long has it been since he’s had enough of it, to be so easily overtaken with nothing more than being held and kissed? Gradually Julian just falls to his knees, overwhelmed. He looks up at Lucio with a sort of wounded adoration, and Lucio cups his face in both hands tenderly.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers, voice soft. 

“Am I?” The doctor asks with soft curiosity. The insult doesn’t seem to register, all his attention on Lucio. 

“Yes. Who _wouldn’t_ want you, have you _seen yourself_ , you’re such a treasure, you’re so rare, you’re almost perfect… except that you’re so stupid that you don’t even know it.” He leans into him, kissing his forehead. “Don’t you ever disparage yourself like that again, you idiot,” he purrs, “At least not where I can hear you, because I won’t stand for it. There will be consequences.” 

The doctor smiles slowly, bashful. “Such as…?”

“I’ll make you stand blindfolded while I touch you until you cry. I’ll put you between two mirrors and make you watch while I ravish you. I’ll tie you to my bed and feed you nothing but praise and honeyed figs for days on end. I’ll put on red lipstick and you won’t be allowed to leave my rooms until every last inch of you is the same color red. You’ll regret it.” 

“You’re so cruel, Count…” Julian begins, smiling like the idiot that he is, but interrupts himself with “Oof!” as Lucio drops to his own knees in front of him, pulls him into his arms with such force that they both nearly topple. Julian’s arms hover for a moment, then he brings them around Lucio’s neck with care, as if he’s afraid to put them in the wrong place. 

“Stay with me,” he’s whispering into his ear, heart racing at his own daring. “Stay with me tonight and the next night. I long for you when you’re not here - and if you tell anyone I said that, I really _will_ punish you.” 

“But I’m so broken,” Julian breathes, not quite ready to believe him. The words have a forced quality, as if they have sharp edges, as if they hurt him. Very well - Lucio will hurt him more, then. 

Tilting his head back with both hands, Lucio presses soft, sucking kisses to his throat… and sinks his teeth into the vulnerable place between his neck and shoulder, without warning or care.

Julian cries out with real surprise at the pain… then he lets his head fall back, wordlessly offering Lucio whatever he wants. His eyes are closed. 

“Good, that’s right.” Pressing a single kiss to the pulse throbbing in his throat, Lucio drags his golden claws down his check and then along one side of his body, letting them slice through his cloth, leave lines on the skin beneath. “Say it again,” he sighs.

There’s a hesitation, as if sensing for a trap, then Julian lifts his head and opens his eyes. _His eyes are beautiful,_ Lucio thinks. _He has no idea how lovely he is._

“I’m broken,” he says again, simply and without artifice, looking into Lucio’s face. 

“Good boy,” Lucio murmurs, almost out of habit. Then: “I know. I knew it the first time I had you.” He leans forward to put his lips to the other man’s ear. “I want to hurt you. I want to press my fingers to the broken places and watch you fall apart.”

Julian doesn’t answer him, but Lucio can feel how shallowed his breathing has become, can feel him trembling, his arms tightening around Lucio. He strokes his hair, to soothe him. “But I promise I’ll put you back together when I’m done. Don’t be afraid.” 

“I am, though.” 

“Alright. That’s alright.” He runs his fingers down the back of his neck, across his shoulders. His body is drawn tight, tight like a bowstring, like an inheld breath. “Do you want to stop? You won’t have to go, you can stay and be held.” He feels him shudder, as if the kindness hurts him somehow. Maybe it does. Lucio feels, again, the strangeness in him. And in himself, the dark curiosity, the need to trace it to its source. 

“ _No._ ” And softer, “No. Please. Don’t stop.” 

“Alright.” Lucio wets his lips, an unconscious expression of hunger. He leans pulls Julian’s body more tightly against his own. “You deserve so much more than you’ve been given,” he whispers, and feels, like the first shuddering of fault lines ready to break apart, a tremor run through him. 

Encouraged, Lucio presses harder, “I’m not a witch, but I can tell you your history without any cards. His voice stays low. “You crave pain and you don’t know why - it brings a kind of release nothing else does.” 

Julian whispers, “Yes,” and clings to him. For a moment, Lucio lets him. 

“You can find people to hurt you, that’s the easy part. And it’s good, most of the time, sometimes it’s enough. But there’s something else you want, right? You want to surrender. To submit your will. You want to give yourself up to someone stronger than you are.” Julian draws back to look him in the face, stricken.

“Is it really so easy to read?”

“Yes.” Lucio kisses his cheek, then gets to his feet. “Get up.” 

Julian obeys, his eyes on Lucio. Without hesitation, Lucio places two hands on his chest and walks him backward. “Finding someone to give yourself up to is harder. Not because no one wants you - I’m sure a lot of people will want you - oh, stop blushing! - you know very well how pretty you are. I’ve seen you bat your eyes at everyone. You do it to me, too.” 

They reach the bed and Lucio pushes him over - Julian goes down with a small cry, catching himself with his hands. Lucio stands over him. 

“...It’s not hard to find someone who wants you. The hard part comes when they discover that you’re more than a pretty toy. That’s just artifice. In reality you’re-- What did you call it? ‘A handful’. You’re a lot of work, aren’t you Julian? Too much work.” 

The man splayed out on his bed stares at him, and Lucio watches tears form in the corners of his eyes - real ones. This isn’t how he expected this to go, probably. Of course, it never is. People underestimate Lucio, when they think whips and chains are his only tools.

Moving quickly, he leans one knee on the bed and reaches down to strike Julian hard across the face. “ _Answer me!_ ” The shuddering intake of breath is extremely gratifying. _Oh, but he’s so easy, this one._

“I’m a lot of work,” Julian breathes, holding a hand to his cheek. 

_”’Too much work.’_ Say it.” 

“I’m too much work,” he whispers. Then, unprompted. “I’m not worth it. I know it’s too much to ask. I know. I’m too much work.” 

Lucio nods, not in agreement but recognition. “Good, Julian.” “I’m sure you believe it, too. Sit up, I want to undress you.” 

“It’s the truth.” His voice is quiet, but defiant.

Lucio just nods agreeably. “Way too much. Hardly worth the time,” he sighs, sliding into his lap to while he makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt. As he slides it free, he kisses the curve Julian’s bare shoulder. “Exquisite,” he murmurs with real pleasure. “But far too much work,” he grins, correcting himself. Julian doesn’t seem to enjoy the joke as much as Lucio does. 

Lucio kneels to undo his own pants and pull them down roughly, together with his undergarments - a position he is pleased to see makes Julian remarkably uncomfortable. He can’t resist teasing him - spreading his thighs, arching his back, displaying proper posture for a man on his knees - before he tosses the pants aside. “Don’t get used to it,” he grins, and stands up to let Julian watch him undress.


End file.
